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Cl^e  ^ffteD  (Btaln  anD  ti^e  (Bmfn  ^(fterjs 


AN   ADDRESS 


AT  THE   DEDICATION   OF  THE   BUILDING 


^tate  i^ijBftorical  ^ocictp  of  H^iiefcon^in 

AT  MADISON,  OCTOBER  19,  1900 

BY 

CHARLES  FRANCIS  ADAMS,  LL.D. 

President  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society 


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Ci^e  ^ifteD  (Bvain  anD  tl^e  (3tain  ^iittx^ 


AN   ADDRESS 


AT  THE   DEDICATION   OF  THE   BUILDING 


^tate  l^i^Bftorical  ^ocietp  of  Wi^cm^in 


AT  MADISON,  OCTOBER  19,  1900 


BY 


CHARLES  FRANCIS  ADAMS,  LL.D. 

President  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society 


"  Mais  qui  se  presente  comme  dans  un  tableau  cette  grande  image 
de  nostre  mere  nature  en  son  entiere  maiest^  ;  qui  lit  en  son  visage  una 
si  generale  et  constante  variety ;  qui  se  remarque  la  dedans,  et  non 
soy,  mais  tout  un  royaume,  comme  un  traict  d'une  poincte  tres  deli- 
cate, celuy  Ik  seul  estime  les  choses  selon  leur  iuste  grandeur." — Essais 
de  Montaigne,  livre  i.  chapitre  xxv. 

"  But  whoever  shall  represent  to  his  fancy,  as  in  a  picture,  that 
great  image  of  our  mother  Nature,  in  her  full  majesty  and  lustre, 
whoever  in  her  face  shall  read  so  general  and  so  constant  a  variety, 
whoever  shall  observe  himself  in  that  figure,  and  not  himself  but  a 
whole  kingdom,  no  bigger  than  the  least  touch  or  prick  of  a  pencil 
in  comparison  of  the  whole,  that  man  alone  is  able  to  value  things  ac- 
cording to  their  true  estimate  and  grandeur." —  Hazlitt  edition  (1892) 
of  Cotton's  Montaigne^  vol.  i.  p.  161. 


I 


6&I 

/=73  54236 


ADDRESS 


"«Si,"„issrs„^ 


On  occasions  such  as  this,  a  text  upon  which  to  dis- 
course is  not  usual ;  I  propose  to  venture  an  exception  to 
the  rule.  I  shall,  moreover,  offer  not  one  text  only,  but 
two  ;  taken,  the  first,  from  a  discourse  prepared  in  the  full 
theological  faith  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  other 
from  the  most  far-reaching  scientific  publication  of  the 
century  now  drawing  to  its  close. 

"  God  sifted  a  whole  Nation  that  He  might  send  choice 
Grain  over  into  this  Wilderness,"  said  William  Stoughton 
in  the  election  sermon  preached  according  to  custom  be- 
fore the  Great  and  General  Court  of  Massachusetts  in 
April,  1668.  To  the  same  effect  Charles  Darwin  wrote 
in  1871 :  "  There  is  apparently  much  truth  in  the  behef 
that  the  wonderful  progress  of  the  United  States,  as  well 
as  the  character  of  the  people,  are  the  results  of  natural 
selection  ;  for  the  more  energetic,  restless  and  courageous 
men  from  all  parts  of  Europe  have  emigrated  during  the 
last  ten  or  twelve  generations  to  that  great  country  and 
have  there  succeeded  best ;  "  and  the  quiet,  epoch-mark- 
ing, creed-shaking  naturalist  then  goes  on  to  express  this 
startHng  judgment,  which,  uttered  by  an  American,  would 
have  been  deemed  the  very  superlative  of  national  van- 
ity :  — "  Looking  to  the  distant  future,  I  do  not  think 
[it]  an  exaggerated  view  [to  say  that]  all  other  series  of 
events  —  as  that  which  resulted  in  the  culture  of  mind  in 
Greece,  and  that  which  resulted  in  the  Empire  of  Rome  — 
only  appear  to  have  purpose  and  value  when  viewed  in 
connection  with,  or  rather  as  subsidiary  to,  the  great 
stream  of  Ang^lo-Saxon  eraigfration  to  the  West."  ^ 

1  The  Descent  of  Man  (ed.  1874),  vol.  ii.  pp.  218,  219. 


Such  are  my  texts;  but,  while  I  propose  to  preach 
from  them  largely  and  to  them  in  a  degree,  I  am  not 
here  to  try  to  instruct  you  to-day  in  the  history  of  your 
own  State  of  Wisconsin,  or  in  the  magic  record  relating 
to  the  development  of  what  we  see  fit  to  call  the  North- 
west. Indeed  I  am  not  here  as  an  individual  at  all ;  nor 
as  one  in  any  way  specially  quahfied  to  do  justice  to 
the  occasion.  I  am  here  simply  as  the  head  for  the  time 
being  of  what  is  unquestionably  the  oldest  historical 
society  in  America,  and,  if  reference  is  made  to  societies 
organized  exclusively  for  the  preservation  of  historical 
material  and  the  furtherance  of  historical  research,  one 
than  which  few  indeed  anywhere  in  existence  are  more 
ancient  of  years.  As  the  head  of  the  Massachusetts  His- 
torical Society,  I  have  been  summoned  to  contribute  what 
I  may  in  honor  of  the  completion  of  this  edifice,  the 
future  home  of  a  similar  society,  already  no  longer  young  ; 
—  a  society  gi-own  up  in  a  country  which,  when  the 
Massachusetts  institution  was  formed,  was  yet  the  home 
of  aboriginal  tribes,  —  a  forest-clad  region  known  only  to 
the  frontiersman  and  explorer.  Under  such  circumstances, 
I  did  not  feel  that  I  had  a  rigrht  not  to  answer  the  call. 
It  was  as  if  in  our  older  Massachusetts  time  the  pastor  of 
the  Plymouth,  or  of  the  Salem  or  Boston  Church  had 
been  invited  to  the  sfatherinjr  of  some  new  brotherhood 
in  the  Connecticut  Valley,  or  the  lighting  of  another 
candle  of  the  Lord  on  the  Concord  or  the  Nashua,  there 
to  preach  the  sermon  of  ordination  and  extend  the  right 
hand  of  fellowship. 

And  in  this  connection  let  mo  here  mention  one  some- 
what recondite  historical  circumstance  relatincr  to  this 
locality.  You  liere  may  be  more  curiously  informed,  but 
few  indeed  in  Massachusetts  are  to-day  knowing  of  the 
fact  tliat  this  portion  of  Wisconsin  —  Madison  itself,  and 
all  the  adjoining  comities  —  was  once,  territorially,  a  part 
of  the  royally  assigned  limits  of  Massachusetts.'     Yet 

'  See  Appendix  A,  p.  51. 


such  was  undisputably  the  fact ;  and  it  lends  a  certain 
propriety,  not  the  less  poetic  because  remote,  to  my  accept- 
ance of  the  part  here  to-day  assigned  me. 

Accepting  that  part,  I  none  the  less,  as  I  have  said, 
propose  to  break  away  from  what  is  the  usage  in  such 
cases.  That  usage,  if  I  may  have  recourse  to  an  old 
theological  formula,  is  to  improve  the  occasion  histori- 
cally. An  address,  erudite  and  bristHng  with  statistics, 
would  now  be  in  order.  An  address  in  which  the  2"rad- 
ual  growth  of  the  community  or  the  institution  should 
be  developed,  and  its  present  condition  set  forth ;  with 
suitable  reference  to  the  days  of  small  things,  and  a 
tribute  of  gratitude  to  the  founders,  and  those  who  pa- 
tiently built  their  lives  into  the  edifice,  and  made  of  it 
their  monument.  The  names  of  all  such  should,  I  agree, 
be  cut  deep  over  its  portico ;  but  this  task,  eminently 
proper  on  such  occasions,  I,  a  stranger,  shall  not  under- 
take here  and  now  to  perform.  For  it  others  are  far 
better  qualified.  I  do  not,  therefore,  propose  to  tell  you 
of  the  St.  Francis  Xavier  mission  at  Green  Bay,  or  of 
Nicollet ;  of  Jacques  Cartier,  of  Marquette  or  of  Radisson, 
any  more  than  of  those  two  devoted  benefactors  and  assidu- 
ous secretaries  of  this  institution,  Lyman  C.  Draper  and 
Reuben  G.  Thwaites ;  but,  leaving  them,  and  their  deeds 
and  services,  to  be  commemorated  by  those  to  the  manner 
born,  and,  consequently,  in  every  respect  better  qualified 
than  I  for  the  work,  I  propose  to  turn  to  more  general 
subjects  and  devote  the  time  allotted  me  to  generalities, 
and  to  the  future  rather  than  to  the  past. 

In  an  address  delivered  about  eio^hteen  months  asfo 
before  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  I  discussed 
in  some  detail  the  modern  conception  of  history  as  com- 
pared with  that  which  formerly  prevailed.  I  do  not  now 
propose  to  repeat  what  I  then  said.  It  is  sufficient  for  my 
present  purpose  to  call  attention  to  what  we  of  the  new 
school  regard  as  the  dividing  line  between  us  and  the 


historians  of  the  old  school,  the  first  day  of  October, 
1859,  —  the  date  of  the  publication  of  Darwin's  "  Origin 
of  Species  ; "  the  book  of  his  immediately  preceding  the 
"  Descent  of  Man,"  from  which  my  text  for  to-day  was 
taken.  On  the  first  day  of  October,  1859,  the  Mosaic 
cosmogony  finally  gave  place  to  the  Darwinian  theory 
of  evolution.  Under  the  new  dispensation,  based  not  on 
chance  or  an  assumed  supernatural  revelation,  but  on  a 
patient  study  of  biology,  that  record  of  mankind  known 
as  history,  no  longer  a  mere  succession  of  traditions  and 
annals,  has  become  a  unified  whole,  —  a  vast  scheme  sys- 
tematically developing  to  some  result  as  yet  not  under- 
stood. Closely  allied  to  astronomy,  geology  and  physics, 
the  study  of  modern  history  seeks  a  scientific  basis  from 
which  the  rise  and  fall  of  races  and  dynasties  will  be 
seen  merely  as  phases  of  a  consecutive  process  of  evolu- 
tion, —  the  evolution  of  man  from  his  initial  to  his  ulti- 
mate state.  When  this  conception  was  once  reached, 
history,  ceasing  to  be  a  mere  narrative,  made  up  of  dis- 
connected ejDisodes  having  little  or  no  bearing  on  each 
other,  became  a  connected  whole.  To  each  development, 
each  epoch,  race  and  dynasty  its  proper  place  was  to  be 
assigned  ;  and  to  assign  that  place  was  the  function  of 
the  historian.  Formerly  each  episode  was  looked  upon 
as  complete  in  itself ;  and,  being  so,  it  had  features  more 
or  less  dramatic  or  instructive,  and,  for  tliat  reason, 
tempting  to  the  historian,  whether  investigator  or  literary 
artist,  —  a  Freeman  or  a  Fronde.  Now,  the  first  ques- 
tion the  historian  must  put  to  himself  relates  to  the 
])r()pf'r  adjustment  of  his  particular  theme  to  the  entire 
plan,  —  ho  is  shaping  the  fragment  of  a  vast  mosaic. 
The  incomparably  greater  j)orti()n  of  history  has,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  little  value,  —  not  much  more  than  the 
biography  of  the  average  individual;  it  is  a  record  of 
small  acc'om})lishment, —  in  many  instances  a  record  of 
no  accomplishment  at  all,  perhaps  of    retrogression  ;  — 


for  we  cannot  all  be  successful,  nor  even  everlastingly 
and  effectively  strenuous.  Among  nations  in  history, 
as  among  men  we  know,  the  commonplace  is  the  rule ; 
but,  whether  ordinary  or  exceptional,  —  conspicuous  or 
obscure,  —  each  has  its  proper  place,  and  to  it  that  place 
should  be  assigned. 

Having  laid  down  this  principle,  I,  eighteen  months 
ago,  proceeded  to  apply  it  to  the  society  I  was  then  ad- 
dressing, and  to  the  history  of  the  Commonwealth  whose 
name  that  society  bears;  and  I  gave  my  answer  to  it, 
such  as  that  answer  was.  The  same  question  I  now  put 
as  concerns  Wisconsin ;  and  to  that  also  I  propose  to  ven- 
ture an  answer.  As  my  text  has  indicated,  that  answer, 
also,  will  not  in  a  sense  be  lacking  in  ambition.  In  the 
history  of  Wisconsin  I  shall  seek  to  find  verification  of 
what  Darwin  suggested,  —  evidence  of  the  truth  of  the 
great  law  of  natural  selection  as  applied  also  to  man. 

Thus  stated,  the  theme  is  a  large  one,  and  may  be 
approached  in  many  ways  ;  and,  in  the  first  place,  I  pro- 
pose to  approach  it  in  the  way  usual  with  modern  his- 
torical writers.  I  shall  attempt  to  assign  to  Wisconsin 
its  place  in  the  sequence  of  recent  development;  for 
it  is  only  during  the  last  fifty  years  that  Wisconsin  has 
exercised  any,  even  the  most  imperceptible,  influence  on 
what  is  conventionally  agreed  upon  as  history.  That 
this  region  before  the  year  1848  had  an  existence,  we 
know  ;  as  we  also  know  that,  since  the  last  glacial  period 
when  the  earth's  surface  hereabouts  assumed  its  present 
geographical  form,  —  some  five  thousand,  or,  perhaps, 
ten,  or  even  twenty  thousand  years  ago,  —  it  has  been 
occupied  by  human  beings,  —  fire-making,  implement- 
using,  garment-wearing,  habitation-dwelling.  With  these 
we  have  now  nothing  to  do.  We,  the  historians,  are  con- 
cerned only  with  what  may  be  called  the  mere  fringe  of 
Time's  raiment,  —  the  last  half  century  of  the  fifty  or 
one  hundred  centuries ;  the  rest  belong  to  the  ethnologist 


and  the  geologist,  not  to  us.     But  the  last  fifty  years, 
again,  so  far  as  the  evolution  of  man  from  a  lower  to  a 
higher  stage  of  development  is  concerned,  though  a  very 
quickening  period,  has,  after  all,  been  but  one  stage,  and 
not  the  final  stage,  of  a  distinct  phase  of  development. 
That  phase  has  now  required  four  centuries  in  which  to 
work  itself  out  to  the  point  as  yet  reached ;  for  it  harks 
back  to  the  discovery  of  America,  and  the  movement  to- 
wards rehgious  freedom  which  followed  close  upon  that 
discovery,  though  having  no  direct  connection  with  it. 
Martin  Luther  and  Christopher  Columbus  had  little  in 
common  except  that  their  -lives  overlapped ;  but  those  two 
dates,  1492  and  1517,  —  the  landfall  at  San  Salvador,  and 
the  theses  nailed  on  the  church  door  at  Wittenberg,  — 
those  two  dates  began  a  new  chapter  in  human  history, 
the  chapter  in  which  is  recounted  the  fierce  struggle  over 
the  establishment  of  the  principles  of  civil  and  religious 
liberty,  and  the  recognition  of  the  equality  of  men  before 
the  law.     For,  speaking  generally  but  with  approximate 
correctness,  it  may  be  asserted  that,  prior  to  the  year 
1500,  the  domestic  political  action  and  the  foreign  com- 
plications of  even  the  most  advanced  nations  turned  on 
other  issues,  —  dynastic,  predatory,  social ;  but,  since  that 
date,  from  the  wars  of  Charles  V.,  of  Francis  I.,  and  of 
Elizabeth,  down  to  our  own  Confederate  rebellion,  almost 
every  great  struggle  or  debate  has  either  directly  arisen 
out  of  some  religious  dispute  or  some   demand  for  in- 
creased civil  rights,  or,  if  it  had  not  there  its  origin,  it 
has  invariably  gravitated  in  that  direction.     Even  Fred- 
erick of  Prussia,  the  so-called  Great  —  that  skeptical,  irre- 
ligious, cut-purse  of  the  Empire,  —  the  disciple  and  pro- 
tector of  Voltaire  and  the  apotheosized  of  Thomas  Carlyle, 
—  even    Frederick    figured  as   "  the  Protestant  Hero  ;  " 
wliile  Francis  I.  was  "  the  Eldest  Son  of  the  Church," 
and  Henry  VIII.  received  from  Rome  the  title  of  "  De- 
fender of  the  Faith." 


9 

Since  the  year  1500,  on  the  other  hand,  what  is  known 
as  modern  history  has  been  little  more  than  a  narrative 
of  the  episodes  in  the  struggle  not  yet  closed  against  arbi- 
trary rule,  whether  by  a  priesthood  or  through  divine 
right,  or  by  the  members  of  a  caste  or  of  a  privileged 
class,  —  whether  ennobled,  plutocratic  or  industrial.  The 
right  of  the  individual  man,  no  matter  how  ignorant  or 
how  poor,  to  think,  worship  and  do  as  seems  to  him  best, 
provided  always  in  so  doing  he  does  not  infringe  upon 
the  rights  of  others,  has  through  these  four  centuries 
been,  as  it  still  is,  the  underlying  issue  in  every  conflict. 
It  seems  likely,  also,  to  continue  to  be  the  issue  for  a  long 
time  to  come,  for  it  never  was  more  firmly  asserted  or 
sternly  denied  than  now ;  though  to-day  the  opposition 
comes,  not,  as  heretofore,  from  above,  but  from  below, 
and  finds  its  widest  and  most  formidable  expression  in 
the  teachings  of  those  socialists  who  preach  a  doctrine  of 
collectivism,  or  the  complete  suppression  of  the  individual. 

That  proposition,  however,  does  not  concern  us  here 
and  now.  Our  business  is  with  the  middle  period  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  not  with  the  first  half  of  the 
twentieth ;  and,  no  matter  how  closely  we  confine  our- 
selves to  the  subject  in  hand,  space  and  time  will  scarcely 
be  found  in  which  properly  to  develop  the  theme.  Two 
and  fifty  years  ago,  when,  in  the  summer  of  1848,  Wis- 
consin first  took  shape  as  a  recognized  political  organiza- 
tion, —  a  new  factor  in  man's  development,  —  human 
evolution  was  laboring  over  two  problems,  —  nationality 
and  slavery.  Slavery  —  that  is,  the  ownership  of  one  man 
or  one  class  of  men  by  another  man  or  class  of  men  — 
had  existed,  and  been  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course,  from 
the  beginning.  Historically  the  proposition  did  not  admit 
of  doubt.  In  Great  Britain,  bondage  had  only  recently 
disappeared,  and  in  Russia  it  was  still  the  rule  ;  while 
among  the  less  advanced  nations  its  rightfulness  was 
nowhere  challenged,  with  us  here  in  America  it  was  a 


10 

question  of  race.  The  equality  of  whites  before  the  law 
was  an  article  of  political  faith  ;  not  so  that  of  the  blacks. 
The  Africans  were  distinctly  an  inferior  order  of  being, 
and,  as  such,  not  only  in  the  Southern  or  slave  States, 
but  throughout  the  North  also,  not  entitled  to  the  unre- 
stricted pursuit  on  equal  terms  of  Hfe,  liberty  and  happi- 
ness. Hence  a  fierce  contention,  —  the  phase  as  it 
presented  itself  on  the  land  discovered  by  Columbus  in 
1492,  of  the  struggle  inaugurated  by  Luther  in  1517. 
Its  work  was  thus,  so  to  speak,  cut  out  for  Wisconsin  in 
advance  of  its  being,  —  its  place  in  the  design  of  the 
great  historical  scheme  prenatally  assigned  to  it.  How 
then  did  it  address  itself  to  its  task  ?  how  perform  the 
work  thus  given  it  to  do?  Did  it,  standing  in  the  front 
rank  of  progress,  help  the  great  scheme  along?  Or, 
identifying  itself  with  that  reactionist  movement  ever  on 
foot,  did  it  strive  with  the  stars  in  their  courses? 

Here,  in  the  United  States,  the  form  in  which  the  issue 
of  the  future  took  shape  between  1830,  when  it  first  pre- 
sented itself,  and  1848,  when  Wisconsin  entered  the 
sisterhood  of  States,  is  even  yet  only  partially  understood, 
in  such  occult  ways  did  the  forces  of  development  interact 
and  exercise  influence  on  each  other.  For  reasons  not 
easy  to  explain,  also,  certain  States  came  forward  as  the 
more  active  exponents  of  antagonistic  ideas,  —  on  the  one 
side  Massachusetts ;  on  the  other,  first,  Virginia,  and, 
later,  South  Carolina.  The  great  and  long  sustained 
debate  which  closed  in  an  appeal  to  force  in  the  spring 
of  1861  must  now  be  conceded  as  something  well-nigh 
inevitable  from  fundamental  conditions  which  dated  from 
the  beginning.  It  was  not  a  question  of  slavery  ;  it  was 
one  of  nationality.  The  issue  had  presented  itself  over 
and  over  again,  in  various  forms  and  in  diiferent  parts  of 
the  country  ever  sinci^  tlie  Constitution  had  been  adopted, 
—  now  in  Pennsylvania  ;  now  in  Kentucky;  now  in  New 
England ;  even  here  in  Wisconsin ;  but,  in  its  most  con- 


11 

Crete  form,  in  South  Carolina.  It  was  a  struggle  for 
mastery  between  centripetal  and  centrifugal  forces.  At 
the  close,  slavery  was,  it  is  true,  the  immediate  cause  of 
quarrel,  but  the  seat  of  disturbance  lay  deeper.  In 
another  country,  and  under  other  conditions,  it  was  the 
identical  struggle  which,  in  feudal  times,  went  on  in  Great 
Britain,  in  France  and  in  Spain,  and  which,  more  recently, 
and  in  our  own  day  only,  we  have  seen  brought  to  a 
close  in  Germany  and  in  Italy,  —  the  struggle  of  a  rising 
spirit  of  nationality  to  overcome  the  clannish  instinct,  — 
the  desire  for  local  independence.  In  the  beginning 
Virginia  stood  forward  as  the  exponent  of  State  Sover- 
eignty. Jefferson  was  its  mouthpiece.  It  was  he  who 
drew  up  the  famous  Kentucky  resolutions  of  1798-99, 
and  his  election  to  the  presidency  in  1800  was  the  recog- 
nized victory  of  the  school  of  States'  Rights  over  Federal- 
ism. Later  the  parties  changed  sides,  —  as  political  parties 
are  wont  to  do.  Possession  of  the  government  led  to  a 
marked  modification  of  views ;  new  issues  were  pre- 
sented ;  and,  in  1807,  the  policy  which  took  shape  in 
Jefferson's  Embargo  converted  the  Federalist  into  a  dis- 
union organization,  which  disappeared  from  existence  in 
the  famous  Hartford  Convention  of  1814-15.  New  Eng- 
land was  then  the  centre  of  the  party  of  the  centrifugal 
force,  and  the  issues  were  commercial.  Fortunately,  up 
to  1815  the  issue  between  the  spirit  of  local  sovereignty 
and  the  ever-growing  sense  of  nationality  had  not  taken 
shape  over  any  matter  of  difference  sufficiently  great  and 
far-reaching  to  provoke  an  appeal  to  force.  Not  the  less 
for  that  was  the  danger  of  conflict  there,  —  a  sufficient 
cause  and  suitable  occasion  only  were  wanting,  and  those 
under  ordinary  conditions  might  be  counted  upon  to  pre- 
sent themselves  in  due  course  of  time.  They  did  present 
themselves  in  1832,  still  under  the  economical  guise. 
But  now  the  moral  issue  lurked  behind,  though  the  South 
did  not  yet  stand  directly  opposed  to  the  advancing  spirit 


12 

of  the  age.  But  Nullification  —  the  logical  outcome  of 
the  theory  of  absolute  State  Sovereignty  —  was  enun- 
ciated by  Calhoun,  and  South  Carolina  took  from  Virginia 
the  lead  in  the  reactionary  movement  from  nationality. 
The  danger  once  more  passed  away ;  but  it  is  obvious  to 
us  now,  and,  it  would  seem,  should  have  been  plain  to 
any  cool-headed  observer  then,  that,  when  the  issue  next 
presented  itself,  a  trial  of  strength  would  be  well-nigh 
inevitable.  The  doctrine  of  State  Sovereignty,  having 
assumed  the  shape  of  Nullification,  would  next  develop 
that  of  Secession,  and  the  direct  issue  over  Nationality 
would  be  presented. 

Almost  before  the  last  indications  of  danger  over  the 
economical  question  had  disappeared.  Slavery  loomed 
ominously  up.  They  did  not  realize  it  at  the  time,  but 
it  was  now  an  angry  wrangle  over  a  step  in  the  progres- 
sive evolution  of  the  human  race.  The  equality  of  man 
before  the  law  and  his  Maker  was  insisted  upon,  and 
was  denied.  It  was  a  portentous  issue,  for  in  it  human 
destiny  was  challenged.  The  desperate  risk  the  Southern 
States  then  took  is  plain  enough  now.  They  entered 
upon  a  distinctly  reactionary  movement  against  two  of 
the  foremost  growing  forces  of  human  development,  the 
tendency  to  nationality  and  the  humanitarian  spirit. 
Though  they  knew  it  not,  they  were  arraying  themselves 
against  the  very  stars  in  their  courses. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  secession-slavery  move- 
ment between  1835  and  1860  was  a  predestined  failure. 
Because  of  fortuitous  events  —  the  chances  of  the  battle- 
field, the  ini])ulse  of  individual  genius,  tlie  exigencies  of 
trade  or  the  bhmders  of  diplomats  —  it  might  easily 
have  had  an  apparent  and  momentary  triumpli ;  l)ut  the 
result  upon  which  the  Slave  Power,  as  such,  was  intent, 
—  ili(!  cr(!ati()n  al)out  the;  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  in  the  An- 
tilles of  a  great  8emi-tro])ical  nationality,  based  on  African 
servitude  and  a  monojiolized  cotton  production,  —  this 


13 

result  was  in  ditect  conflict  with  the  irresistible  tendencies 
of  mankind  in  its  present  stage  of  development.  A 
movement  in  all  its  aspects  radically  reactionary,  it  could 
at  most  have  resulted  only  in  a  passing  anomaly. 

While  the  Southern,  or  Jamestown,  column  of  Darwin's 
great  Anglo-Saxon  migration  was  thus  following  to  their 
legitimate  conclusions  the  teachings  of  Jefferson  and  Cal- 
houn,—  the  Virginia  and  South  Carolina  schools  of 
State  Sovereignty,  Slavery  and  Secession,  —  the  distinc- 
tively Northern  column,  —  that  entering  through  the 
Plymouth  and  Boston  portals,  —  instinctively  adhering 
to  those  principles  of  Church  and  State  in  the  contention 
over  which  it  originated,  —  found  its  way  along  the 
southern  shores  of  the  Great  Lakes,  through  northern 
Ohio,  southern  Michigan,  and  northern  Illinois,  and  then, 
turning  north  and  west,  spread  itself  over  the  vast  region 
beyond  the  great  lakes,  and  towards  the  upper  waters  of 
the  Mississippi.  But  it  is  very  noteworthy  how  the  lead 
and  inspiration  in  this  movement  still  came  from  the 
original  source.  While  in  the  South  it  passed  from  Vir- 
ginia to  Carolina  ;  in  the  North  it  remained  in  Massachu- 
setts. Three  men  then  came  forward  there,  voicing  more 
clearly  than  any  or  all  others  what  was  in  the  mind  of 
the  community  in  the  way  of  aspiration,  whether  moral 
or  pohtical.  Those  three  were  :  William  Lloyd  Garrison, 
Daniel  Webster  and  John  Quincy  Adams ;  they  were  the 
prophetic  voices  of  that  phase  of  American  political  evo- 
lution then  in  process.  Their  messages,  too,  were  curi- 
ously divergent ;  and  yet,  apparently  contradictory,  they 
were,  in  reality,  supplementary  to  each  other.  Garrison 
developed  the  purely  moral  side  of  the  coming  issue. 
Webster  preached  nationality,  under  the  guise  of  love  of 
the  Union.  Adams,  combining  the  two,  pointed  out  a 
way  to  the  establishment  of  the  rights  of  man  under  the 
Constitution  and  within  the  Union.  While,  in  a  general 
way,  much  historical  interest  attaches  to  the  utterances 


14 

and  educational  influence  of  those  three  men  during  the 
period  under  discussion,  the  future  political  attitude  of 
Wisconsin,  then  nascent,  was  deeply  affected  by  them. 
To  this  subject,  therefore,  I  propose  to  devote  some  space ; 
for,  deserving  attention,  I  am  not  aware  that  it  has  here- 
tofore received  it.  In  doing  so  I  cannot  ignore  the  fact 
of  my  own  descent  from  one  of  the  three  I  have  named ; 
but  I  may  say  in  my  own  extenuation  that  John  Quincy 
Adams  was  indisputably  a  considerable  public  character 
in  his  time,  and  when  I,  a  descendant  of  his,  undertake 
to  speak  of  that  time  historically,  I  must,  when  he  comes 
into  the  field  of  discussion,  deal  with  him  as  best  I  may, 
assigning  to  him,  as  to  his  contemporaries,  the  place  which, 
as  I  see  it,  is  properly  his  or  theirs.  INIoreover,  I  will 
freely  acknowledge  that  an  hereditary  affiliation,  if  I  may 
so  express  it,  was  not  absent  from  the  feeHng  which  im- 
pelled me  to  accept  your  call.  However  much  others  had 
forgotten  it,  I  well  remembered  that  more  than  half  a 
century  ago,  in  the  days  of  small  things,  it  was  in  this 
region,  as  in  central  New  York  and  the  Western  Reserve, 
that  the  seed  cast  by  one  from  whom  I  claim  descent  fell 
in  the  good  ground  where  it  bore  fruit  an  hundred  fold. 
Recurring,  then,  to  the  three  men  I  have  named  as 
voicing  systematically  a  message  of  special  significance 
in  connection  with  the  phase  of  political  evohition,  or  of 
development  if  that  word  is  preferred,  then  going  on,  — 
Garrison's  message  was  distinctly  moral  and  humani- 
tarian. In  a  sense,  it  was  reactionary,  and  violently  so. 
In  it  there  was  no  appeal  to  patriotism,  no  recognition 
even  of  nationaHty.  On  the  contrary,  in  tlie  lofty  atmo- 
sphere of  humanitarianism  in  which  he  had  his  being, 
I  doubt  if  Garrison  ever  inhaled  a  distinctively  patriotic 
breath  ;  while  he  certainly  denounced  the  Constitution 
and  assailed  the  Union.  He  saw  only  the  moral  wrong 
of  slavery,  its  absolute  denial  of  the  fundamental  princi- 
ple of  the  equality  of  men  before  the  law  and  before  God, 


15 

and  the  world  became  his,  —  where  freedom  was,  there 
was  his  country.  To  arouse  the  dormant  conscience  of 
the  community  by  the  fierce  and  unceasing  denunciation 
of  a  great  wrong  was  his  mission  ;  and  he  fulfilled  it : 
but,  curiously  enough,  the  end  he  labored  for  came  in 
the  way  he  least  foresaw,  and  through  the  very  instru- 
mentality he  had  most  vehemently  denounced,  —  it  came 
within  that  Union  which  he  had  described  as  a  compact 
with  death,  and  under  that  Constitution  which  he  had 
arraigned  as  a  covenant  with  Hell.  Yet  Garrison  was 
undeniably  a  prophet,  voicing  the  gospel  as  he  saw  it 
fearlessly  and  without  pause.  As  such  he  contributed 
potently  to  the  final  result. 

Next,  Webster.  It  was  the  mission  of  Daniel  Webster 
to  preach  nationality.  In  doing  so  he  spoke  in  words  of 
massive  eloquence  in  direct  harmony  with  the  most  pro- 
nounced aspiration  of  his  time,  —  that  aspiration  which 
has  asserted  itself  and  worked  the  most  manifest  results 
of  the  nineteenth  century  in  both  hemispheres,  —  in 
Spain  and  Prussia  during  the  Napoleonic  war,  in  Russia 
during  the  long  Sclavonic  upheaval,  again  more  recently 
in  Germany  and  in  Italy,  and  finally  in  the  United  States. 
The  names  of  Stein,  of  Cavour  and  of  Bismarck  are 
scarcely  more  associated  with  this  great  instinctive  move- 
ment of  the  century  than  is  that  of  Daniel  Webster.  His 
mission  it  was  to  preach  to  this  people  Union,  one  and 
indivisible  ;  and  he  delivered  his  message. 

The  mission  of  J.  Q.  Adams  during  his  best  and  latest 
years,  while  a  combination  of  that  of  the  two  others,  was 
different  from  either.  His  message,  carefully  thought 
out,  long  retained,  and  at  last  distinctly  enunciated,  was 
his  answer  to  the  Jeffersonian  theory  of  State  Sovereignty, 
and  Calhoun's  doctrine  of  Nullification  and  its  logical  out- 
come. Secession.  With  both  theory  and  doctrine,  and 
their  results,  he  had  during  his  long  political  career  been 
confronted ;  on  both  he  had  reflected  much.     It  was  dur- 


16 

ing  the  administration  of  Jefferson  and  on  the  question 
of  Union  that  he  had,  in  1807,  broken  with  his  party  and 
resigned  from  the  Senate ;  and  with  Calhoun  he  had  been 
closely  associated  in  the  cabinet  of  Monroe.  Calhoun 
also  had  occupied  the  vice-presidential  chair  during  his 
own  administration.  He  now  met  Calhoun  face  to  face 
on  the  slavery  issue,  prophetically  proclaiming  a  remedy 
for  the  moral  wrong  and  the  vindication  of  the  rights  of 
man,  within  the  Union  and  under  the  Constitution,  through 
the  exercise  of  inherent  war  powers,  whenever  an  issue 
between  the  sections  should  assume  the  insurrectionary 
shape.  In  other  words,  Garrison's  moral  result  was  to 
be  secured,  not  through  the  agencies  Garrison  advocated, 
but  by  force  of  that  nationality  which  Webster  pro- 
claimed. This  solution  of  the  issue,  J.  Q.  Adams  never 
wearied  of  enunciating,  early  and  late,  by  act,  speech  and 
letter ;  and  his  view  prevailed  in  the  end.  Lincoln's 
proclamation  of  January,  1863,  was  but  the  formal  de- 
claration of  the  policy  enunciated  by  J.  Q.  Adams  on  the 
floor  of  Congress  in  1836,  and  again  in  1841,  and  yet 
ag-ain  in  gTeater  detail  in  1842.^  It  was  he  who  thus 
brought  the  abstract  moral  doctrines  of  Garrison  into 
unison  of  movement  with  the  nationality  of  Webster. 

The  time  now  drew  near  when  Wisconsin  was  to  take 
her  place  in  the  Union,  and  exert  her  share  of  influence 
on  the  national  polity,  and  through  that  polity  on  a  phase 
of  political  evolution.  South  Carolina,  by  the  voice  of 
Calhoun,  was  preaching  reaction,  througli  slavery  and  in 
defiance  of  nationality  :  Massachusetts,  tlirough  Garrison 
and  Webster,  was  proclaiming  the  moral  idea  and  nation- 
ality as  abstractions ;  while  J.  Q.  Adams  confronted 
Calhoun  with  the  ominous  contention  that,  the  instant  he 
or  his  had  recourse  to  force,  that  instant  the  moral  wrong 
could  be  made  good  by  the  sword  wielded  in  defence  of 
Nationality  and  in  the  name  of  the  Constitution. 

*  See  Appendix  B,  p.  53. 


17 

As  1848  waxed  old,  the  debate  grew  angry.  J.  Q. 
Adams  died  in  the  early  months  of  that  memorable  year; 
but  his  death  in  no  way  affected  the  course  of  events. 
The  leadership  in  the  anti-slavery  struggle  on  the  floor  of 
Congress  and  within  the  limits  of  the  Constitution  had 
passed  from  him  four  years  before.  He  was  too  old 
longer  to  bear  the  weight  of  armor,  or  to  wield  weapons 
once  familiar ;  but  the  effect  of  his  teachings  remained, 
and  were  living  realities  wherever  the  New  England 
column  had  penetrated,  —  throughout  central  New  York, 
in  "  the  Western  Reserve,"  and  especially  in  the  region 
which  bordered  on  Lake  Michigan.  Garrison  still  de- 
claimed against  the  Union  as  an  unholy  alliance  with  sin  ; 
while,  in  the  mind  of  Webster,  his  sense  of  the  wrong  of 
slavery  was  fast  being  overweighted  by  apprehension  for 
nationality.  In  the  mean  time,  a  war  of  criminal  aggres- 
sion against  Mexico  in  behalf  of  Calhoun's  reactionary 
movement  had  been  brought  to  a  close,  and  the  question 
was  as  to  the  partition  of  plunder.  On  that  great  issues 
hinged,  and  over  it  was  fought,  the  presidential  election 
of  1848.  A  little  more  than  fifty  years  ago,  that  was 
the  first  election  in  which  Wisconsin  participated.  The 
number  of  those  who  now  retain  a  distinct  recollection  of 
the  canvass  of  1848  and  the  questions  then  so  earnestly 
debated  are  not  many ;  I  chance  to  be  one  of  those  few. 
I  recall  one  trifling  incident  connected,  not  with  the 
canvass  but  with  the  events  of  that  year,  which,  for  some 
reason,  made  an  impression  upon  me,  and  now  illustrates 
curiously  the  remoteness  of  the  time.  I  have  said  that 
J.  Q.  Adams  died  in  February,  1848.  Carried  back  with 
much  funereal  state  from  the  Capitol  at  Washington  to 
Massachusetts,  he  was  in  March  buried  at  Quincy.  An 
eloquent  discourse  was  there  delivered  over  his  grave  by 
the  minister  of  the  church  of  which  the  ex-President  had 
been  a  member.  He  who  delivered  it  was  a  scholar,  as 
well  as  a  natural  orator  of  high  order  j  and,  in  the  course 


18 

of  what  he  said  he  had  occasion  to  refer  to  this  remote 
region,  then  not  yet  admitted  to  statehood,  and  he  did  so 
under  the  name  of  "  the  Ouisconsin."  That  discourse 
was  deUvered  on  the  11th  of  March,  1848  ;  and,  on  the 
29th  of  the  following  May,  Wisconsin  became  a  State. 

Returning  now  to  the  presidential  election  of  1848,  it 
will  be  found  that  Wisconsin,  the  youngest  community 
in  the  Union,  came  at  once  to  the  front  as  the  banner 
State  of  the  West  in  support  of  the  principles  on  which 
the  Union  was  established,  and  the  maintenance  and 
vindication  of  those  fundamental  principles  within  the 
Union  and  through  the  Constitution.  In  that  canvass 
the  great  issues  of  the  future  were  distinctly  brought  to 
the  front.  The  old  party  organizations  then  still  con- 
fronted each  other,  —  the  Henry  Clay  Whigs  were  over 
against  the  Jacksonian  Democracy ;  but  in  that  election 
Lewis  Cass,  the  legitimate  candidate  of  the  Democracy,  — 
a  Northern  man  with  Southern  principles,  —  so  far  as 
African  slavery  was  concerned  a  distinct  reactionist  from 
the  principles  of  the  great  Declaration  of  1776,  —  Lewis 
Cass,  of  Michigan,  was  opposed  to  General  Zachary 
Taylor,  of  Louisiana,  himself  a  slaveholder,  and  nomi- 
nated by  a  party  which  in  presenting  his  name  carefully 
abstained  from  any  enunciation  of  political  principles. 
He  was  an  unknown  political  quantity  ;  and  no  less  a 
public  character  than  Daniel  Webster  characterized  his 
nomination  as  one  not  fit  to  be  made.  It  yet  remained 
to  ])e  seen  that,  practically,  the  plain,  blunt,  honest,  well- 
meaning  old  soldier  made  an  excellent  President,  whose 
premature  loss  was  deeply  and  with  reason  deplored.  His 
nomination,  liowever,  immediately  after  that  of  Cass, 
proved  tin;  signal  for  revolt.  For  the  disciples  of  J.  Q. 
Adams  in  both  political  camps  it  was  as  if  the  cry  had 
again  gone  forth,  "To  your  tents,  0  Israel!"  —  and 
a  first  fierce  blast  of  the  coming  storm  then  swept  across 
the  land.     In   August  the  dissentients  met  in  conference 


19 

at  Buffalo,  and  there  first  enunciated  the  principles  of  the 
American  political  party  of  the  future,  —  that  party 
which,  permeated  by  the  sentiment  of  Nationality,  was 
destined  to  do  away  with  slavery  through  the  war  power, 
and  to  incorporate  into  the  Constitution  the  principle  of 
the  equality  of  man  before  the  law,  irrespective  of  color 
or  of  race.  Now,  more  than  half  a  century  after  the 
event,  it  may  fairly  be  said  of  those  concerned  in  the 
Buffalo  movement  of  1848  that  they  were  destined  to 
earn  in  the  fulness  of  time  the  rare  distinction  of  carry- 
ing mankind  forward  one  distinct  stage  in  the  long  pro- 
cess of  evolution.  In  support  of  that  movement  Wis- 
consin was,  as  I  have  already  said,  the  banner  western 
State.  In  its  action  it  simply  responded  to  its  early  im- 
pulse received  from  New  England  and  western  New 
York.  Thus  the  seed  fell  in  fertile  places  and  produced 
fruit  an  hundred  fold.  The  law  of  natural  selection, 
though  not  yet  formulated,  was  at  work. 

The  election  returns  of  1848  tell  the  story.  They  are 
still  eloquent.  The  heart  of  the  movement  of  that  year 
lay  in  Massachusetts  and  Vermont.  In  those  two  States, 
taken  together,  the  party  of  the  future  polled,  in  1848,  a 
little  over  28  per  cent,  of  the  aggregate  vote  cast.  In 
Wisconsin  it  polled  close  upon  27  per  cent. ;  and  this  27 
per  cent,  in  Wisconsin  is  to  be  compared  with  15  per 
cent,  in  Michigan,  12  per  cent,  in  Illinois,  less  than  11 
per  cent,  in  Ohio,  and  not  4  per  cent,  in  the  adjoining 
State  of  Iowa.  In  the  three  neig-hborino^  States  of  Michi- 
gan,  Illinois  and  Iowa,  taken  together,  the  new  move- 
ment gathered  into  itself  12  per  cent,  of  the  total  voting 
constituency,  while  in  Wisconsin  it  counted,  as  I  have 
said,  over  26  per  cent.  Thus,  in  1848,  Wisconsin  was 
the  Vermont  of  the  West ;  sending  to  Congress  as  one 
of  its  three  representatives  Charles  Durkee,  a  son  of 
Vermont,  the  first  distinctively  anti-slavery  man  from  the 
Northwest.     Wisconsin    remained   the  Vermont   of   the 


20 

West.  From  its  very  origin  not  the  smallest  doubt 
attached  to  its  attitude.  It  emphasized  it  in  words  when 
in  1849  it  instructed  one  of  its  Senators  at  Washingfton 
"  to  immediately  resign  his  seat  "  because  he  had  "  out- 
raged the  feelings  of  the  people  "  by  dalliance  with  the 
demands  of  the  Slave  Power  ;  it  emphasized  it  by  action 
w^hen  five  years  later  its  highest  judicial  tribunal  did  not 
hesitate  to  declare  the  Fuo;itive  Slave  Law  of  1850 
"  unconstitutional  and  void."  At  the  momentous  election 
of  1860,  Wisconsin  threw  56  per  cent,  of  its  vote  in 
favor  of  the  ticket  bearing  the  name  of  Abraham 
Lincoln ;  nor  did  the  convictions  of  the  State  weaken 
under  the  test  of  war.  In  1864,  when  Wisconsin  had 
sent  into  the  field  over  90,000  enlisted  men  to  maintain 
the  Union,  and  to  make  effective  the  most  extreme 
doctrine  of  war  powers  under  the  Constitution,  —  even 
then,  in  the  fourth  year  of  severest  stress,  Wisconsin 
again  threw  55  per  cent,  of  its  popular  vote  for  the 
reelection  of  Lincoln.  A  year  later  the  struggle  ended. 
Throuofhout  the  ordeal  Wisconsin  never  faltered. 

Of  the  record  made  by  Wisconsin  in  the  Civil  War,  I 
am  not  here  to  speak.  That  field  has  been  sufficiently 
covered,  and  covered  by  those  far  better  qualified  than  I 
to  work  in  it.  I  will  only  say,  in  often  quoted  words,  that, 
none  then  died  more  freely  or  in  greater  glory  than  those 
Wisconsin  sent  into  the  field,  though  then  many  died, 
and  there  was  much  glory.  When  figures  so  speak,  com- 
ment weakens.  Look  at  the  record  :  —  Fifty-seven  regi- 
ments and  thirteen  batteries  in  tlie  field  ;  a  death  roll 
exceeding  12,000;  a  Wisconsin  regiment  (2d)  first  in 
that  roll  of  lionor  wliicli  tells  off'  the  regiments  of  the 
Union  which  sulVerod  most,  and  two  other  Wisconsin  regi- 
ments (7th  and  26th),  together,  fifth  ;  while  a  brigade 
made  up  three  (piarters  of  Wisconsin  battalions  shows  the 
hoaviost  aggregate  loss  sustained  during  the  war  hy  any 
similar  connnand,  and  is  hence  known  in  the  history  of  the 


21 

struggle  as  the  "Iron  Brigade."  Thirteen  Wisconsin 
regiments  participated  in  Grant's  briUiant  movement  on 
Vicksburg ;  five  were  with  Thomas  at  Chickamauga ;  seven 
with  Sherman  at  Mission  Ridge ;  and,  finally,  eleven 
marched  with  him  to  the  sea,  while  four  remained  behind 
to  strike  with  Thomas  at  Nashville.  Thus  it  may  truly 
be  said  that  wherever,  between  the  13th  of  April,  1861, 
and  the  26th  of  April,  1865,  death  was  reaping  its  heavi- 
est harvest,  —  whether  in  Pennsylvania,  in  Virginia,  in 
Tennessee,  in  Mississippi,  in  Georgia,  —  at  Shiloh,  at  Cor- 
inth, at  Antietam,  at  Gettysburg,  in  the  salient  at  Spott- 
sylvania,  in  the  death-trap  at  Petersburg,  or  in  the  Penin- 
sula slaughter-pen,  —  wherever  during  those  awful  years 
the  dead  lay  thickest,  there  the  men  from  Wisconsin  were 
freely  laying  down  their  lives. 

It  is,  however,  no  part  of  my  present  purpose  to  set 
forth  here  your  sacrifices  in  the  contest  of  1861-65. 
What  I  have  undertaken  to  do  is  to  assio^n  to  Wisconsin 
its  proper  and  relative  place  as  a  factor  in  one  of  the 
great  evolutionary  movements  of  man.  As  the  twig  was 
bent,  the  tree  inclined.  The  sacrifices  of  Wisconsin  life 
and  treasure  between  1861  and  1865  were  but  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  promise  given  by  Wisconsin  in  1848.  The 
State,  it  is  true,  at  no  time  during  that  momentous 
struggle  rose  to  a  position  of  unchallenged  leadership 
either  in  the  field  or  the  council  chamber.  Among  its 
representatives  it  did  not  number  a  Lincoln  or  a  Sherman  ; 
but  it  did  supply  in  marked  degree  that  greatest  and 
most  necessary  of  all  essentials  in  every  evolutionary 
crisis,  a  well-developed  and  thoroughly  distributed  popu- 
lar backbone. 

This  racial  characteristic,  also,  I  take  to  be  the  one 
great  essential  to  the  success  of  our  American  experiment. 
In  every  emergency  which  arises  there  is  always  the  cry 
raised  for  a  strong  hand  at  the  helm,  —  the  ship  of  state 
is  invariably  declared  to  be  hopelessly  drifting.     But  it 


22 

is  in  just  those  times  of  crisis  that  a  widely  diffused 
individuality  proves  the  greatest  possible  safeguard, — 
the  only  reliable  public  safeguard.  It  is  then  with  the 
State  as  it  is  with  a  strong,  seaworthy  ship  manned  by  a 
hardy  and  experienced  crew,  in  no  way  dependent  on  the 
one  pilot  who  may  chance  to  be  at  the  wheel.  In  any 
stress  of  storm,  the  ship's  company  will  prove  equal  to 
the  occasion,  and  somehow  provide  for  its  own  salvation. 
Under  similar  political  conditions,  a  community  asserts, 
in  the  long  run,  its  superiority  to  the  accidents  of  fortune, 
—  the  aberrations  due  to  the  influence  of  individual  gen- 
ius, those  winning  numbers  in  the  lottery  of  fate,  —  and 
evinces  that  staying  power,  which,  no  less  now  and  here 
than  in  Rome  and  Great  Britain,  is  the  only  safe  rock  of 
empire.  The  race  thus  educated  and  endowed  is  the 
masterful  race,  —  the  master  of  its  own  destiny,  it  is 
master  of  the  destiny  of  others ;  and  of  that  crowning 
republican  quality,  Wisconsin,  during  our  period  of 
national  trial,  showed  herself  markedly  possessed.  While 
individuals  were  not  exceptional,  the  average  was  unmis- 
takably high. 

And  this  I  hold  to  be  the  higfhest  tribute  which  can 
be  paid  to  a  political  community.  It  implies  all  else. 
Unless  I  greatly  err,  tins  characteristic  has,  in  the  case 
of  Wisconsin,  a  profound  and  scientific  significance  of 
the  most  far-reaching  character ;  and  so  I  find  myself 
brought  back  to  my  text.  As  I  have  already  more  than 
once  said,  others  are  in  every  way  better  qualified  than  I 
to  speak  intoHigently  of  the  Wisconsin  stock,  —  of  the 
elements  which  enter  into  the  brain  and  bone  and  sinew 
of  the  race  now  liolding  as  its  abiding-])laco  and  breeding- 
iifround  tlu;  re<rl(>n  lyinji'  ])etween  Lake  INIichijian  and  the 
waters  of  the  upper  Mississippi,  —  between  the  State  of 
IlHnois  on  the  south  and  Lake  Superior  on  the  north.  I 
speak  cliiefly  from  impression,  and  always  subject  to  cor- 
rection ;  but  my  understanding  is  that  tliis  region  was  in 


2S 

the  main  peopled  by  men  and  women  representing  in  their 
persons  what  there  was  of  the  more  enterprising,  adven- 
turous and  energetic  of  three  of  the  most  thoroughly 
virile  and,  withal,  moral  and  intellectual  branches  of  the 
human  family,  —  I  refer  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  of  New 
England  descent,  and  to  the  Teutonic  and  the  Scandi- 
navian families.  Tough  of  fibre  and  tenacious  of  prin- 
ciple, the  mixed  descendants  from  those  races  were  well 
calculated  to  illustrate  the  operation  of  a  natural  law; 
and  I  have  quite  failed  in  my  purpose  if  I  have  not 
improved  this  occasion  to  point  out  how  in  the  outset  of 
their  political  life  as  a  community  they  illustrated  the 
force  of  Stoughton's  utterance  and  the  truth  of  Darwin's 
remarkable  generalization.  By  their  attitude  and  action, 
at  once  intelligent  and  decided,  they  left  their  imprint 
on  that  particular  phase  of  human  evolution  which  then 
presented  itself.  They,  in  so  doing,  assigned  to  Wiscon- 
sin its  special  place  and  work  in  the  great  scheme  of 
development,  and  forecast  its  mission  in  the  future. 

I  have  propounded  an  historical  theory ;  it  is  for 
others,  better  advised,  having  passed  upon  it,  to  confirm 
or  reject. 

There  are  many  other  topics  which  might  here  and  now 
be  discussed,  perhaps  advantageously,  —  topics  closely 
connected  with  this  edifice  and  with  the  occasion,  — 
topics  relating  to  libraries,  the  accumulation  of  historical 
material,  and  methods  of  work  in  connection  with  it ;  but 
space  and  time  alike  forbid.  A  selection  must  be  made ; 
and,  in  making  my  selection,  I  go  back  to  the  fact  that, 
representing  one  historical  society,  I  am  here  at  the 
behest  of  another  historical  society  ;  and  matters  relating 
to  what  we  call  "  history  "  are,  therefore,  those  most  ger- 
mane to  the  day.  Coming,  then,  here  from  the  East  to 
a  point  which,  in  the  great  future  of  our  American 
development,  —  a  century,  or,  perchance,  two  or  three 


24 

centuries  hence,  —  may  not  unreasonably  look  forward 
to  being  the  seat  of  other  methods  and  a  higher  learning, 
I  propose  to  pass  over  the  more  obvious  and,  possibly, 
the  more  useful,  even  if  more  modest,  subjects  of  discus- 
sion, and  to  try  my  hand  at  one  which,  even  if  it  chal- 
lenges controversy,  is  indisputably  suggestive.  I  refer 
to  certain  of  the  more  marked  of  those  tendencies  which 
characterize  the  historical  work  of  the  day.  Having 
dealt  with  the  sifted  grain,  I  naturally  come  to  speak  of 
those  who  have  told  the  tale  of  the  sifting.  Looking 
back,  from  the  standpoint  of  1900,  over  the  harvested 
sheaves  which  stud  the  fields  we  have  traversed,  the 
retrospect  is  not  to  me  altogether  satisfactory.  In  fact, 
taken  as  a  whole,  our  histories  —  I  speak  of  those  written 
by  the  dead  only  —  have  not,  I  submit,  so  far  as  we 
are  concerned,  fully  met  the  requirements  of  time  and 
place.  Literary  masterpieces,  scientific  treatises,  philo- 
sophical disquisitions,  sometimes  one  element  predomi- 
nates, sometimes  another ;  but  in  them  all  something  is 
wanting.  That  something  I  take  to  be  an  adequately 
developed  literary  sense. 

In  dealing  with  this  subject,  I  am  well  aware  my  criti- 
cism miffht  take  a  wider  ranjje.  I  need  not  confine 
myself  to  history,  inasmuch  as,  in  the  matter  of  literary 
sense,  the  shortcomings,  or  the  excesses  rather,  of  the 
American  writer,  are  manifest.  In  the  Greek,  and  in  the 
Greek  alone,  this  sense  seems  to  have  been  instinctive. 
He  revealed  it,  and  he  revealed  it  at  once,  in  poetry,  in 
architecture  and  in  art,  as  he  revealed  it  in  the  composi- 
tion of  history.  Of  Homer  we  cannot  speak;  but  Hero- 
dotus and  Pliidias  died  within  six  years  of  each  other, 
each  a  father  in  his  calling.  With  us  Americans  that 
intuitive  literary  sense,  resulting  in  the  perfection  of 
literary  form,  seems  not  less  conspicuous  for  its  absence 
than  it  was  conspicuous  for  its  presence  among  the  Greeks. 
In  literature  the  American  seems  to  exist  in  a  medium  of 


26 

stenographers  and  typewriters,  and  with  a  public  printer 
at  his  beck  and  call.  To  such  a  degree  is  this  the  ease 
that  the  expression  I  have  just  used  —  literary  form  — 
has,  to  many,  and  those  not  the  least  cultured,  ceased  to 
carry  a  meaning.  Literary  form  they  take  to  mean  what 
they  know  as  style  ;  while  style  is,  with  them,  but  another 
term  for  word-painting.  Accordingly,  with  altogether 
too  many  of  our  American  writers,  to  be  voluminous  and 
verbose  is  to  be  great.  They  would  conquer  by  force  of 
numbers  —  the  number  of  words  they  use.  I,  the  other 
day,  chanced  across  a  curious  illustration  of  this  in  the 
diary  of  my  father.  Returning  from  his  long  residence 
in  England  at  the  time  of  the  Civil  War,  he  attended 
some  ceremonies  held  in  Boston  in  honor  of  a  public 
character  who  had  died  shortly  before.  "  The  eulogy," 
he  wrote,  "  was  good,  but  altogether  too  long.  There  is 
in  all  the  American  style  of  composition  a  tendency  to 
diffuseness,  and  the  repetition  of  the  same  ideas,  which 
materially  impairs  the  force  of  what  is  said.  I  see  it  the 
more  clearly  from  having  been  so  long  out  of  the  atmos- 
phere." 

The  failing  is  national ;  nor  in  this  respect  does  the 
American  seem  to  profit  by  experience.  Take,  for  in- 
stance, the  most  important  of  our  public  documents,  the 
inaugurals  of  our  Presidents.  We  are  a  busy  people ; 
yet  our  newly  elected  Presidents  regularly  inflict  on  us 
small  volumes  of  information,  and  this,  too,  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact  that  in  the  long  line  of  inaugural  common- 
places but  one  utterance  stands  out  in  memory,  and  that 
one  the  shortest  of  all,  —  the  immortal  second  of  Lincoln. 
Our  present  chief  magistrate  found  himself  unable  to  do 
justice  to  the  occasion,  in  his  last  annual  message,  in  less 
than  eighteen  thousand  words ;  and  in  the  Congress  to 
which  this  message  was  addressed,  two  Senators,  in  dis- 
cussing the  "  paramount "  issue  of  the  day,  did  so,  the 
one  in  a  speech  of  sixty-five  thousand  words ;  the  other 


26 

in  a  speech  of  fifty-five  thousand.  Webster  replied  to 
Hayne  in  thirty-five  thousand ;  and  Webster  then  did 
not  err  on  the  side  of  brevity.  So  in  the  presidential 
canvass  now  in  progress.  Mr.  Bryan  accepted  his  nomi- 
nation in  a  comparatively  brief  speech  of  nine  thousand 
words ;  and  this  speech  was  followed  by  a  letter  of  five 
thousand,  covering  omissions  because  of  previous  brevity. 
President  McKinley,  in  his  turn,  then  accepted  a  renom- 
ination  in  a  letter  of  twelve  thousand  words,  —  a  letter 
actually  terse  when  compared  with  his  last  annual  mes- 
sage ;  but  which  Mr.  Carl  Schurz  subsequently  proceeded 
to  comment  on  in  a  vigorous  address  of  fourteen  thousand 
words.  Leviathans  in  language,  we  Americans  need  to 
be  Methuselabs  in  years.  It  was  not  always  so.  The 
contrast  is,  indeed,  noticeable.  Washington's  first  inau- 
gural numbered  twenty-three  hundred  words.  Including 
that  now  in  progress,  my  memory  covers  fourteen  presi- 
dential canvasses  ;  and  by  far  the  most  generally  applauded 
and  effective  letter  of  acceptance  put  forth  by  any  candi- 
date during  all  those  canvasses  was  that  of  General  Grant 
in  1868.  Including  address  and  signature,  it  was  com- 
prised in  exactly  two  hundred  and  thirty  words.  With  a 
brevity  truly  commendable,  even  if  military,  he  used  one 
word  where  his  civilian  successor  found  occasion  for  fifty- 
two.  As  to  the  opponent  of  that  civilian  successor,  he  sets 
computation  at  defiance.  Indeed,  speaking  of  Mr.  Bryan 
purely  from  the  historical  standpoint,  I  seriously  doubt 
whether,  in  all  human  experience,  any  man  ever  before 
gave  utterance  to  an  equal  number  of  words  in  the  same 
space  of  time. 

Leaving  illustration,  however,  and  returning  to  my 
theme,  I  will  now  say  that  in  the  whole  long  and  memo- 
rable list  of  distinctively  American  literary  men,  —  autliors, 
orators,  poets  and  story-tellers,  —  I  recall  but  three  who 
seem  to  me  to  have  been  endowed  with  a  sense  of  form, 
at  once   innate   and   Greek;    those    three   were   Daniel 


27 

Webster,  Edgar  Allan  Poe  and  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
Yet,  unless  moulded  by  that  instinctive  sense  of  form, 
nothing  can  be  permanent  in  literature  any  more  than  in 
sculpture,  in  painting  or  in  architecture.  Not  size,  nor 
solidity,  nor  fidelity  of  work,  nor  knowledge  of  detail, 
will  preserve  the  printed  volume  any  more  than  they  will 
preserve  the  canvas  or  the  edifice ;  and  this  I  hold  to  be 
just  as  true  of  history  as  of  the  oration,  the  poem  or  the 
drama. 

Surely,  then,  our  histories  need  not  all,  of  necessity,  be 
designed  for  students  and  scholars  exclusively ;  and  yet 
it  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  even  to-day,  after  scholars  and 
story-tellers  have  been  steadily  at  work  upon  it  for  nearly 
a  century  and  a  half,  —  ever  since  David  Hume  and  Oliver 
Goldsmith  brought  forth  their  classic  renderings,  —  the 
chief  popular  knowledge  of  over  three  centuries  of  Eng- 
lish history  between  John  Plantagenet  (1200)  and  Eliza- 
beth Tudor  (1536)  is  derived  from  the  pages  of  Shake- 
speare. There  is  also  a  curious  theory  now  apparently  in 
vogue  in  our  University  circles,  that,  in  some  inscrutable 
way,  accuracy  as  to  fact  and  a  judicial  temperament  are 
inconsistent  with  a  highly  developed  literary  sense.  Eru- 
dition and  fairness  are  the  quahties  in  vogue,  while  form 
and  brilliancy  are  viewed  askance.  Addressing  now  an 
assembly  made  up,  to  an  unusual  extent,  of  those  engaged 
in  the  work  of  instruction  in  history,  I  wish  to  suggest 
that  this  marked  tendency  of  the  day  is  in  itself  a  passing 
fashion,  and  merely  a  reactionary  movement  against  the 
influence  of  two  great  literary  masters  of  the  last  genera- 
tion,—  Macaulay  and  Carlyle.  That  the  reaction  had 
reason,  I  would  by  no  means  deny  ;  but,  like  most  decided 
reactions,  has  it  not  gone  too  far  ?  Because  men  weary 
of  brilliant  colors,  and  mere  imitators  try  to  wield  the 
master's  brush,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  art  does  not 
find  its  highest  expression  in  Titian  and  Tintoretto,  Rem- 
brandt, Claude  and  Turner.     It  is  the  same  with  history. 


28 

Profound  scholars,  patient  investigators,  men  of  a  judicial 
turn  of  mind,  subtile  philosophers  and  accurate  annalists 
empty  forth  upon  a  patient,  because  somewhat  indifferent, 
reading  public  volume  after  volume  ;  but  the  great  masters 
of  literary  form,  in  history  as  in  poetry,  alone  retain  their 
hold.  Thucydides,  Tacitus  and  Gibbon  are  always  there, 
on  a  level  with  the  eye ;  while  those  of  their  would-be 
successors  who  find  themselves  unable  to  tell  us  what 
they  know,  in  a  way  in  which  we  care  to  hear  it,  or  within 
limits  consistent  with  human  life,  are  quietly  relegated  to 
the  oblivion  of  the  topmost  shelf. 

I  fear  that  I  am  myself  in  danger  of  sinning  somewhat 
flagrantly  against  the  canons  I  have  laid  down.  Exceed- 
ing my  allotted  space,  I  am  conscious  of  disregarding  any 
correct  rule  of  form  by  my  attempt  at  dealing  with  more 
subjects  than  it  is  possible  on  one  occasion  adequately  to 
discuss.  None  the  less  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation, — 
I  am  proving  myself  an  American  ;  and  having  gone 
thus  far,  I  will  now  go  on  to  the  end,  even  though  alone. 
There  are,  I  hold,  three  elements  which  enter  into  the 
make-up  of  the  ideal  historian,  whether  him  of  the  past 
or  him  of  the  future;  —  these  three  are  learning,  judg- 
ment and  the  literary  sense.  A  perfect  history,  like  a 
perfect  poem,  must  have  a  beginning,  a  middle  and  an 
end ;  and  the  well  proportioned  parts  should  be  kept  in 
strict  subservience  to  the  whole.  The  dress,  also,  should 
be  in  keeping  with  the  substance;  and  both  subordinated 
to  the  conception.  Attempting  no  display  of  erudition, 
pass  the  great  liistorical  literatures  and  names  in  rapid  re- 
view, and  see  in  how  few  instances  all  these  canons  were 
observed.  And  first,  the  Hebrew.  While  the  Jew  cer- 
tainly was  not  endowed  with  the  Greek's  sense  of  form  in 
sculpture,  in  painting  or  in  architecture,  in  })oetry  and 
music  lie  was,  and  has  since  been,  preeminent.  His 
j)hilos()j)hy  and  his  history  found  their  natural  expression 
through  his  aptitudes.     The  result  illustrates  the  supreme 


29 

intellectual  power  exercised  by  art.  Of  learning  and  judg- 
ment there  is  only  pretence  ;  but  imagination  and  power 
are  there  :  and,  even  to  this  day,  the  Hebrew  historical 
writings  are  a  distinct  literature,  —  we  call  them  "  The 
Sacred  Books."  We  have  passed  from  under  that  super- 
stition ;  and  yet  it  still  holds  a  traditional  sway.  The 
books  of  Moses  are  merely  a  first  tentative  effort  on  the 
road  subsequently  trodden  by  Herodotus,  Livy  and 
Voltaire  ;  but  their  author  was  so  instinct  with  imagi- 
nation and  such  a  master  of  form  that  to  this  day  his 
narrative  is  read  and  accepted  as  history  by  more  human 
beings  than  are  all  the  other  historical  works  in  existence 
combined  in  one  mass.  No  scholar  or  man  of  reflection 
now  believes  that  Moses  was  any  more  inspired  than 
Homer,  Julius  Caesar  or  Thomas  Carlyle ;  but  the  imagi- 
nation and  intellectual  force  of  the  man,  combined  with 
his  instinct  for  literary  form,  sufficed  to  secure  for  what 
he  wrote  a  unique  mastery  only  in  our  day  shaken.^ 

The  Greek  follows  hard  upon  the  Jew  ;  and  of  the 
Greek  I  have  already  said  enough.  He  had  a  natural 
sense  of  art  in  all  its  shapes ;  and,  when  it  came  to  writ- 
ing history,  Herodotus,  Thucydides  and  Xenophon  seemed 
mere  evolutions.  Of  the  three,  Thucydides  alone  com- 
bined in  perfection  the  quaHties  of  erudition,  judgment 
and  form  ;  but  to  the  last-named  element,  their  literary 
form,  it  is  that  all  three  owe  their  immortality. 

It  is  the  same  with  the  Romans,  —  Livy,  Sallust, 
Tacitus.  The  Roman  had  not  that  artistic  instinct  so 
noticeable  in  the  Greek.  He  was,  on  the  contrary,  essen- 
tially a  soldier,  a  ruler  and  organizer  ;  and  a  literary 
imitator.  Yet  now  and  again  even  in  art  he  attained  a 
proficiency  which  challenged  his  models.  Cicero  has  held 
his  own  with  Demosthenes ;  and  Virgil,  Horace  and 
Juvenal  survive,  each  through  a  mastery  of  form.  Taci- 
tus, it  is  needless  to  say,  is  the  Latin  Thucydides.     In 

1  See  Appendix  C,  p.  58. 


30 

him  again,  five  centuries  after  Thueydides,  the  three 
essentials  are  combined  in  the  highest  degree.  The 
orbs  of  the  great  historical  constellation  are  wide  apart, 
—  the  interval  that  divided  Tacitus  from  Thucydides  is 
the  same  as  that  which  divided  Matthew  Paris  from 
Edward  Gibbon  ;  —  twice  that  which  divides  Shakespeare 
from  Tennyson. 

Coming  rapidly  down  to  modern  times,  of  the  three 
great  languages  fruitful  in  historical  work,  —  the  French, 
English  and  German,  — those  writing  in  the  first  have 
alone  approached  the  aptitude  for  form  natural  to  the 
Greeks  ;  but  in  Gibbon  only  of  those  who  have,  in  the  three 
tongues,  devoted  themselves  to  historical  work,  were  all 
the  cardinal  elements  of  historical  greatness  found  united 
in  such  a  degree  as  to  command  general  assent  to  his  pre- 
eminence. The  Germans  are  remarkable  for  erudition, 
and  have  won  respect  for  their  judgment ;  but  their  dis- 
regard of  form  has  been  innate,  —  indicative  either  of  a 
lack  of  perception  or  of  contempt.^  Their  work  accord- 
ingly will  hardly  prove  enduring.  The  French,  from 
Voltaire  down,  have  evinced  a  keener  perception  of 
form,  nor  have  they  been  lacking  in  erudition.  Critical 
and  quick  to  perceive,  they  have  still  failed  in  any  one 
instance  to  combine  the  three  areat  attributes  each  in  its 
highest  degree.  Accordingly,  in  the  historical  firmament 
they  count  no  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  Their  lights 
have  been  meteoric  rather  than  permanent. 

In  the  case  of  Great  Britain  it  is  interesting  to  follow 
the  familiar  names,  noting  the  shortcoming  of  each.  The 
roll  scarcely  extends  beyond  the  century,  —  Hume,  Robert- 

1  "  Not  only  does  a  German  writer  possess,  as  a  rule,  a  full  measure  of 
tlie  piitiont  industry  which  is  rofpiirorl  for  thinkinp  cvorythinp  that  may  be 
thi>iif;lit  al)()ut  liis  tluMno,  and  knowing;  what  otlicrs  liavc  llioiif^ht  ;  he  alone, 
it  sccnns,  wIhmi  he  comes  to  write  a  hook  ahout  it,  is  inihiicd  with  llic  belief 
that  that  hook  ought  necessarily  to  Im;  a  complete  comjtendiMm  of  every- 
thinfj  tliat  has  h«'en  so  ilionpht,  whether  by  himself  or  others." —  'J'fie  Athe' 
tKcnm,  September  8,  1900,  ji.  303. 


31 

son  and  Gibbon  constituting  the  solitary  remembered 
exceptions.  Of  Gibbon,  I  have  already  spoken.  He 
combined  in  highest  degree  all  the  elements  of  the 
historian,  —  in  as  great  a  degree  as  Thucydides  or 
Tacitus.  He  was  an  orb  of  the  first  order ;  and  it  was 
his  misfortune  that  he  was  born  and  wrote  before  Darwin 
gave  to  history  unity  and  a  scheme.  Hume  was  a  subtle 
philosopher,  and  his  instinctive  mastery  of  form  has  alone 
caused  his  history  to  survive.  He  was  not  an  investi- 
gator in  the  modern  sense  of  the  term,  nor  was  he  gifted 
with  an  intuitive  historical  instinct.  Robertson  had  fair 
judgment  and  a  well-developed  though  in  no  way  remark- 
able sense  of  form  ;  but  he  lacked  erudition,  and,  as  com- 
pared with  Gibbon,  for  example,  was  content  to  accept 
his  knowledge  at  second  hand.  Telling  his  story  well, 
he  was  never  master  of  his  subject. 

Coming  down  to  our  own  century,  and  speaking  only 
of  the  dead,  a  series  of  familiar  names  at  once  suggest 
themselves,  —  Mitf ord,  Grote  and  Thirlwall ;  Arnold  and 
Merivale ;  Milman,  Lingard,  Hallam,  Macaulay,  Carlyle, 
Buckle,  Froude,  Freeman  and  Green,  —  naming  only  the 
more  conspicuous.  Mitford  was  no  historian  at  all ; 
merely  an  historical  pamphleteer.  His  judgment  was  in- 
ferior to  his  erudition  even,  and  he  had  no  sense  of  form. 
Grote  was  erudite,  but  he  wrote  in  accordance  with  his 
political  affinities,  and  what  is  called  the  spirit  of  the  time 
and  place ;  and  that  time  and  place  were  not  Greece,  nor 
the  third  and  fourth  centuries  before  Christ.  He  had, 
moreover,  no  sense  of  literary  form,  for  he  put  what  he 
knew  into  twelve  volumes,  when  human  patience  did  not 
suffice  for  six.  Thirlwall  was  erudite  in  a  way,  and  a 
thinker  and  writer  of  unquestionable  force ;  but  his 
work  on  Greece  was  written  to  order,  and  is  what  is 
known  as  a  "  standard  history."  Correct,  but  devoid  of 
inspiration,  it  is  slightly  suggestive  of  a  second-class  epic. 
Arnold  is  typical  of  scholarship  and  insight ;  his  judg- 


32 

ment  is  excellent :  but  of  literary  art,  so  conspicuous  in 
his  son,  there  is  no  trace.  Merivale  is  scholarly  and 
academic.  Milman  was  hampered  by  his  church  training, 
■which  fettered  his  judgment ;  learned,  as  learning  went 
in  those  days,  there  is  in  his  writings  nothing  that  would 
attract  readers  or  students  of  a  period  later  than  his  own. 
Lingard  was  another  church  historian.  A  correct  writer, 
he  tells  England's  story  from  the  point  of  view  of  Rome. 
Hallam  is  deeply  read,  and  judicial ;  but  the  literary 
sense  is  conspicuously  absent.  His  volumes  are  well-nigh 
unreadable.  Freeman  is  the  typical  modern  historian  of 
the  original-material-and-monograph  school.  He  writes 
irrespective  of  readers.  Learned  beyond  compare,  he 
cumbers  the  shelves  of  our  libraries  with  an  accumulatioH 
of  volumes  which  are  not  literature. 

Of  Henry  Thomas  Buckle  and  of  John  Richard  Green  I 
will  speak  together,  and  with  respectful  admiration.  Both 
were  prematurely  cut  off,  almost  in  what  with  historical 
writers  is  the  period  of  promise  ;  for,  while  Green  at  the 
time  of  his  death  was  forty-seven.  Buckle  was  not  yet 
forty-one.  What  they  did,  therefore,  —  and  they  both 
did  much,  —  was  indicative  only  of  what  they  might  have 
done.  Judged  by  that,  —  ex  pede  Ilerculem,  —  I  hold 
that  they  come  nearer  to  the  ideal  of  what  a  twentieth 
century  historian  sliould  be  than  any  other  writers  in 
our  modern  English  tongue.  That  Buckle  was  crude, 
im])ulsive,  hasty  in  generalization  and  paradoxical  in 
judgment  is  not  to  be  gainsaid;  —  but  lie  wrote  before 
Darwin  ;  and,  when  he  published  his  history,  lie  was  but 
thirty-six.  What  miglit  he  not  have  become  had  lie  been 
favored  with  liealth,  and  lived  to  sixty.  Very  different 
in  organization,  lie  and  Green  alike  possessed  in  high 
degree  the  spirit  of  investigation  and  tlie  historical 
insight,  combined  with  a  wcill-dcveloped  literary  sense. 
Men  of  untiring  research,  they  had  the  faculty  of  ex- 
pression.     Artists    as    well   as    scholars,    they    inspired. 


33 

Their  early  death  was  in  my  judgment  an  irreparable  loss 
to  Eng'lish  historical  lore  and  the  best  historical  treat- 
ment. 

I  come  now  to  Macaulay,  Carlyle  and  Froude,  the  three 
literary  masters  of  the  century  who  have  dealt  with  history 
in  the  English  tongue ;  and  I  shall  treat  of  them  briefly, 
and  in  the  inverse  order.  Froude  is  redeemed  by  a  sense 
of  literary  form ;  as  an  historian  he  was  learned,  but 
inaccurate,  and  his  judgment  was  fatally  defective.  He 
was  essentially  an  artist.  Carlyle  was  a  poet  rather  than 
an  historian.  A  student,  with  the  insight  of  a  seer  and  a 
prophet's  voice,  his  judgment  was  fatally  biased.  A  won- 
derful master  of  form,  his  writings  will  endure ;  but  rather 
as  epics  in  prose  than  as  historical  monuments.  Macaulay 
came,  in  my  judgment,  nearer  than  any  other  English 
writer  of  the  century  to  the  great  historical  stature ;  but 
he  failed  to  attain  it.  The  cause  of  his  failure  is  an 
instructive  as  well  as  an  interesting  study. 

Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  is  unquestionably  the 
most  popular  historian  that  ever  wrote.  His  history, 
when  it  appeared,  was  the  literary  sensation  of  the  day, 
and  its  circulation  increased  with  each  succeedino^  vol- 
ume.  Among  historical  works,  it  alone  has  in  its  vogue 
thrown  into  the  shade  the  most  successful  novels  of  the 
century,  —  those  of  Scott,  Thackeray  and  Dickens,  Jane 
Eyre,  Robert  Elsmere,  and  even  Richard  Carvel,  the  last 
ephemeral  sensation ;  but,  of  the  three  great  attributes 
of  the  historian,  Macaulay  was  endowed  with  only  one. 
He  was  a  man  of  vast  erudition ;  and,  moreover,  he  was 
gifted  with  a  phenomenal  memory,  which  seemed  to  put 
at  his  immediate  disposal  the  entire  accumulation  of  his 
omnivorous  reading.  His  judgment  was,  however,  defec- 
tive ;  for  he  was,  from  the  very  ardor  of  his  nature,^  more 

^  "  It  is  well  to  realize  that  this  greatest  history  of  modern  times  was  writ- 
ten by  one  in  whom  a  distrust  in  enthusiasm  was  deeply  rooted.  This 
cynicism  was  not  inconsistent  with  partiality,  with  definite  prepossessions, 
with  a  certain  spite.     The  coavictiou  that  enthusiasm  is  inconsistent  with 


34 

or  less  of  a  partisan,  while  the  wealth  of  his  imagination 
and  the  exuberance  of  his  rhetoric  were  fatal  to  his  sense 
of  form.  He  was  incomparably  the  greatest  of  historical 
raconteurs,  but  the  fascination  of  the  story  overcame  his 
sense  of  proportion,  and  he  was  buried  under  his  own 
riches.  For  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose,  as  so  many 
do,  that  what  is  called  style,  no  matter  how  brilliant,  or 
how  correct  and  clear,  constitutes  in  itself  literary  form ; 
it  is  a  large  and  indispensable  element  in  literary  form, 
but  neither  the  whole,  nor  indeed  the  greatest  part  of  it. 
The  entire  scheme,  the  proportion  of  the  several  parts  to 
the  whole  and  to  each  other,  the  grouping  and  the  pre- 
sentation, the  background  and  the  accessories  constitute 
literary  form ;  the  style  of  the  author  is  merely  the 
drapery  of  presentation.  Here  was  where  Macaulay 
failed ;  and  he  failed  on  a  point  which  the  average 
historical  writer,  and  the  average  historical  instructor  still 
more,  does  not  as  a  rule  even  take  into  consideration. 
Macaulay's  general  conception  of  his  scheme  was  so 
imperfect  as  to  be  practically  impossible ;  and  this  he 
himself,  when  too  late,  sadly  recognized.  His  interest 
in  his  subject  and  the  warmth  of  his  imagination  swept 
him  away,  —  they  were  too  strong  for  his  sense  of  pro- 
portion. Take,  for  instance,  two  such  wonderful  bits  as 
his  account  of  the  trial  of  the  seven  bishops,  and  his  nar- 
rative of  tlie  siege  of  Londonderry.  They  are  master- 
pieces ;  but  they  should  be  monographs.  Tliey  are  in 
their  imagery  and  detail  out  of  all  proportion  to  any 
general  liistorical  ])lan.  They  imply  a  whole  wliicli  would 
be  in  itself  an  historical  library  rather  than  a  liistory. 
On  tlie  matter  of  judgment  it  is  not  necessary  to  dwell. 
Macaulay's  work  is  unquestionably  history,  and  history 

intellectual  balance  was  engrained  in  his  mental  constitution,  and  confirmed 
by  Htudy  and  experience.  It  mipjlit  be  reasonably  maintained  that  zeal  for 
men  or  eauscs  is  an  liistorian's  undoing,  and  that  '  roserve  synijiathy  '  —  the 
principle  of  Thncydides  —  is  the  first  lesson  he  has  to  learn."  .J.  B.  Bury, 
Introduction  to  bis  edition  (18%)  of  Gibbon,  vol.  i.  pp.  Ixvii.-lxviii. 


35 

on  a  panoramic  scale ;  but  the  pigments  he  used  are 
indisputably  Whig.  Yet  his  method  was  instinctively 
correct.  He  had  his  models  and  his  scheme,  —  he  made- 
his  preliminary  studies,  —  he  saw  his  subject  as  a  whole, 
and  in  its  several  parts ;  but  he  labored  under  two  dis- 
advantages:—  In  the  first  place,  like  Gibbon,  he  was  born 
and  wrote  before  the  discoveries  of  Darwin  had  given  its 
whole  great  unity  to  history ;  and,  in  the  second  place, 
he  had  not  thought  his  plan  fully  out,  subordinating 
severely  to  it  both  his  imagination  and  his  rhetoric. 
Accordingly,  so  far  as  literary  form  was  concerned,  his 
history,  which  in  that  respect  above  all  should,  with  his 
classic  training,  have  been  an  entire  and  perfect  chryso- 
lite, was  in  fact  a  monumental  failure.  It  was  not  even 
a  whole ;  it  was  only  a  fragment. 

Coming  now  to  our  own  American  experience,  and 
still  speaking  exclusively  of  the  writings  of  the  dead,  it 
is  not  unsafe  to  say  that  there  is  as  yet  no  American  his- 
torical work  which  can  call  even  for  mention  among  those 
of  the  first  class.  The  list  can  speedily  be  passed  in 
review,  —  Marshall,  Irving,  Prescott,  Hildreth,  Bancroft, 
Motley,  Palfrey  and  Parkman.  Except  those  yet  living, 
I  do  not  recall  any  others  who  would  challenge  consider- 
ation. That  Marshall  was  endowed  with  a  calm,  clear 
judgment,  no  reader  of  his  judicial  opinions  would  deny ; 
but  he  had  no  other  attribute  of  an  historian.  He 
certainly  was  not  historically  learned,  and  there  is  no 
evidence  that  he  was  gifted  with  any  sense  of  literary 
proportion.  Irving  was  a  born  man  of  letters.  With  a 
charming  style  and  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  he  was  as  an 
historical  writer  defective  in  judgment.  Not  a  profound 
or  accurate  investigator,  as  became  apparent  in  his 
Columbus  and  his  Washington,  his  excellent  natural 
literary  sense  was  but  partially  developed.  Perhaps  he 
was  born  before  his  time ;  perhaps  his  education  did  not 
lead  him  to  the  study  of  the  best  models ;  but,  however 


36 

it  came  about,  he  failed,  and  failed  indisputably,  in  form. 
Preseott  was  a  species  of  historical  pioneer,  —  an  adven- 
turer in  a  new  field  of  research  and  of  letters.  Not  only 
was  he,  like  Macaulay  and  the  rest,  born  before  Darwin 
and  the  other  great  scientific  lights  of  the  century  had 
assigned  to  human  history  its  unity,  limits  and  signifi- 
cance, but  Preseott  was  not  a  profound  scholar,  nor  yet 
a  thorough  investigator ;  his  judgment  was  by  no  means 
either  incisive  or  robust,  and  his  style  was  elegant,  as  the 
phrase  goes,  rather  than  tersely  vigorous.  He  wrote, 
moreover,  of  that  which  he  never  saw,  or  made  himself 
thoroughly  part  of  even  in  imagination.  Laboring 
under  great  disadvantages,  his  course  was  infinitely 
creditable ;  but  his  portrait  in  the  gallery  of  historians  is 
not  on  the  eye  line.  Of  Hildreth,  it  is  hardly  necessary 
to  speak.  Laborious  and  persevering,  his  investigation 
was  not  thorough ;  indeed  he  had  not  taken  in  the 
fundamental  conditions  of  modern  historical  research. 
With  a  fatally  defective  judgment,  he  did  not  know 
what  form  was. 

George  Bancroft  was  in  certain  ways  unique,  and, 
among  writers  and  students,  his  name  cannot  be  men- 
tioned without  respect.  He  was  by  nature  an  hivesti- 
gator.  His  learning  and  philosophy  cannot  be  called 
sound,  and  his  earlier  manner  was  something  to  be  for- 
ever avoided ;  l)ut  he  was  indefatigable  as  a  collector, 
and  his  patience  knew  no  bounds.  He  devoted  his  life 
to  his  subject ;  and  his  life  came  to  a  close  while  he  was 
still  (Iwelhng  on  the  preliminaries  to  his  theme.  A  par- 
tisan, and  writing  in  support  of  a  ])reconceivcd  theory, 
his  judgment  was  necessarily  biased;  wliile,  as  respects 
literary  form,  tliough  he  always  tended  to  what  was 
better,  he  never  even  approximately  reached  what  is  best. 
He,  too,  like  Macaulay,  failed  to  grasp  the  wide  and 
fundamental  distinction  between  a  jn-oportioned  and 
complete  history  and  a  thorough  historical  monograph. 


37 

His  monumental  work,  therefore,  is  neither  the  one  nor 
the  other.  As  a  collection  of  monographs,  it  is  too  con- 
densed and  imperfect;  as  a  history,  it  is  cumbersome, 
and  enters  into  unnecessary  detail. 

From  a  literary  point  of  view  Motley  is  unquestionably 
the  most  brilhant  of  American  historical  writers.  He 
reminds  the  reader  of  Froude.  Not  naturally  a  patient 
or  profound  investigator,  he  yet  forced  himself  to  make 
a  thorough  study  of  his  great  subject,  and  he  was  gifted 
with  a  remarkable  descriptive  power.  A  man  of  intense 
personahty,  he  was,  however,  defective  in  judgment,  if 
not  devoid  of  the  faculty.  He  lacked  calmness  and  method. 
He  could  describe  a  sieo^e  or  a  battle  with  a  vividness 
which,  while  it  revealed  the  master,  revealed  also  the 
historian's  limitations.  With  a  distinct  sense  of  literary 
form,  he  was  unable  to  resist  the  temptations  of  imagi- 
nation and  sympathy.  His  taste  was  not  severe ;  his  tem- 
per the  reverse  of  serene.  His  defects  as  an  historian 
are  consequently  as  apparent  as  are  his  merits  as  a  writer. 

Of  Palfrey,  the  historian,  I  would  speak  with  the  deep 
personal  respect  I  entertained  for  the  man.  A  typical 
New  Englander,  a  victim  almost  of  that  "  terrible  New 
England  conscience,"  he  wrote  the  history  of  New  Eng- 
land. A  scholar  in  his  way,  and  the  most  patient  of 
investigators,  he  had,  as  an  historian,  been  brought  up  in 
a  radically  wrong  school,  that  of  New  England  theology. 
There  was  in  him  not  a  trace  of  the  skeptic  ;  not  a  sugges- 
tion of  the  humorist  or  easy-going  philosopher.  He  wrote 
of  New  England  from  the  inside,  and  in  close  sympathy 
with  it.  Thus,  as  respects  learning,  care  and  accuracy, 
he  was  in  no  way  deficient,  while  he  was  painstaking  and 
conscientious  in  extreme.  His  training  and  mental  char- 
acteristics, however,  impaired  his  judgment,  and  he  was 
quite  devoid  of  any  sense  of  form.  The  investigator  will 
always  have  recourse  to  his  work ;  but,  as  a  guide,  its 
value  will  pass  away  with  the  traditions  of  the  New  Eng- 


38 

land  theological  period.  From  the  literary  point  of  view 
the  absence  of  all  idea  of  proportion  renders  the  bulk  of 
what  he  wrote  impossible  for  the  reader. 

Of  those  I  have  mentioned,  Parkman  alone  remains ; 
perhaps  the  most  individual  of  all  our  American  histori- 
ans, the  one  tasting  most  racily  of  the  soil.  Parkman  did 
what  Prescott  failed  to  do,  what  it  was  not  in  Prescott 
ever  to  do.  He  wrote  from  the  basis  of  a  personal  know- 
ledge of  the  localities  in  which  what  he  had  to  narrate 
occurred,  and  the  characteristics  of  those  with  whom  he 
undertook  to  deal.  To  his  theme  he  devoted  his  entire 
life,  working  under  difficulties  even  greater  than  those 
which  so  cruelly  hampered  Prescott.  His  patience  under 
suffering  was  infinite  ;  his  research  was  indefatigable.  In 
this  respect,  he  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  While  his 
historical  judgment  was  better  than  his  literary  taste,  his 
appreciation  of  form  was  radically  defective.  Indeed  he 
seemed  almost  devoid  of  any  true  sense  of  proportion. 
The  result  is  that  he  has  left  behind  him  a  succession  of 
monographs  of  more  or  less  historical  value  or  literary 
interest,  but  no  complete,  thoroughly  designed  and  care- 
fully proportioned  historical  unit.  Like  all  the  others, 
his  work  lacks  form  and  finish. 

The  historical  writers  of  more  than  an  hundred  years 
have  thus  been  passed  in  hasty  review,  nor  has  any  nine- 
teenth century  compeer  of  Thucydides,  Tacitus  and  Gib- 
bon been  found  among  those  who  have  exjircsscd  them- 
selves in  the  English  tongue.  Nor  do  I  think  that  any 
such  could  be  found  in  other  tongues ;  unless,  perchance, 
among  the  Germans,  Tlieodor  Mommsen  might  challenge 
consideration.  Of  Mommsen's  learning  there  can  be  no 
(picstion.  I  do  not  think  there  can  l)e  much  of  his  insight 
and  judgment.  The  sole  (juestion  would  be  as  to  his 
literary  form  ;  nor,  in  that  respect,  judging  by  the  recol- 
lection of  thirty  years,  do  I  think  that,  so  far  as  his  his- 
tory  of    Rome   is   concerned,   judgment   can    be   lightly 


39 


passed  against  him.  But,  on  this  point,  the  verdict  of 
time  only  is  final.  Before  that  verdict  is  in  his  case  ren- 
dered, another  half  century  of  probation  must  elapse.^ 


There  is  still  something  to  be  taken  into  consideration. 
I  have  as  yet  dealt  only  with  the  writers ;  the  readers 
remain.  During  the  century  now  ending,  what  changes 
have  here  come  about  ?  For  one,  I  frankly  confess  myself 
a  strong  advocate  of  what  is  sometimes  rather  contemptu- 
ously referred  to  as  the  popularization  of  history.  I  have 
but  a  limited  sympathy  with  those  who,  from  the  ethereal- 
ized  atmosphere  of  the  cloister,  whether  monkish  or  col- 

^  "  C'est  sous  ces  deux  aspects  —  qui  sont  en  r^alite  les  deux  faces  de 
I'esprit  de  Mommseu,  le  savant  et  le  politique  —  qu'il  convient  d'dtudier  cet 
ouvrage. 

"  Dans  I'expos^  scientifique  de  VHistoire  romaine  on  ne  sait  ce  qu'on  doit 
le  plus  admirer,  ou  de  la  science  colossale  de  I'auteur  ou  de  I'art  avec  la- 
quelle  elle  est  raise  en  ceuvre. 

"  C'^tait  une  entreprise  colossale  que  celle  de  rdsumer  tous  les  travaux 
sur  la  matiere  depuis  Niebuhr.  Mommsen  lui-meme  avait  contribu^  k  ce 
travail  par  la  quantite  fabuleuse  de  m^moires  qu'il  avait  ecrits  sur  les 
points  les  plus  sp^ciaux  du  droit  remain,  de  I'archdologie  ou  de  I'histoire. 
Or  tout  cela  est  assimil^  d'une  maniere  merveilleuse  dans  une  narration  his- 
torique  qui  est  un  des  chefs-d'oeuvre  de  I'historiographie.  L'histoire  romaine 
est  une  ceuvre  extraordinaire  dans  sa  condensation,  comme  il  n'en  existe 
nulle  autre  au  monde,  enfermant  dans  des  dimensions  si  restreintes  (3 
volumes  in  8°)  tant  de  choses  et  de  si  bonnes  choses.  Mommsen  raconte 
d'une  maniere  si  attrayante  que  des  les  premieres  lignes  vous  etes  entraind. 
Ses  grands  tableaux  sur  les  premieres  migrations  des  peuples  en  Italic,  sur 
les  d(^buts  de  Rome,  sur  les  Etrusques,  sur  la  domination  des  Hellenes  en 
Italic  ;  ses  chapitres  sur  les  institutions  romaines,  le  droit,  la  religion, 
I'arm^e  et  I'art  ;  sur  la  vie  dcononiique,  I'agriculture,  I'industrie  et  le  com- 
merce ;  sur  le  d^veloppement  int^rieur  de  la  politique  romaine  ;  sur  les 
Celtes  et  sur  Carthage  ;  sur  les  pdrip^ties  de  la  Revolution  romaine  depuis 
les  Gracques  h  Jules  Cesar  ;  sur  I'Orient  grec,  la  Macddoine  ;  sur  la  sou- 
mission  de  la  Gaule  :  tout  cela  forme  un  ensemble  admirable. 

"  Comme  peintre  de  grands  tableaux  historiques,  je  ne  vois  parmi  les 
historiens  contemporains  qu'un  homme  qui  puisse  etre  compare  <i  Mommsen, 
c'est  Ernest  Renan  :  c'est  la  meme  touche  large,  le  meme  sens  des  propor- 
tions, le  meme  art  de  faire  voir  et  de  faire  comprendre,  de  rendre  vivantes 
les  choses  par  les  details  typiques  qui  se  gravent  pour  toujours  dans  la  m^- 
moire."  Guilland,  L'Allemagne  Nouvelle  et  ses  Historiens  (1900),  pp.  121- 
22. 


40 

legiate,  seek  truth's  essence  and  pure  learning  only, 
regardless  of  utility,  of  sympathy  or  of  applause.  The 
great  historical  writer,  fully  to  accomplish  his  mission, 
must,  I  hold,  be  in  very  close  touch  with  the  generation 
he  addresses.  In  other  words,  to  do  its  most  useful  work, 
historical  thought  must  be  made  to  permeate  what  we 
are  pleased  to  call  the  mass  ;  it  must  be  infiltrated  through 
that  great  body  of  the  community  which,  moving  slowly 
and  subject  to  all  sorts  of  influences,  in  the  end  shapes 
national  destinies.  The  true  historian,  —  he  who  most 
sympathetically,  as  well  as  correctly,  reads  to  the  present 
the  lessons  to  be  derived  from  the  experience  of  the  past, 
—  I  hold  to  be  the  only  latter-day  prophet.  That  man 
has  a  message  to  deliver ;  but,  to  deliver  it  effectively,  he 
must,  like  every  successful  preacher,  understand  his  audi- 
ence ;  and,  to  understand  it,  he  must  either  be  instinc- 
tively in  sympathy  with  it,  or  he  must  have  made  a  study 
of  it.  Of  those  instinctively  in  sympathy,  I  do  not  speak. 
That  constitutes  genius,  and  genius  is  a  law  unto  itself ; 
but  I  do  maintain  that  instructors  in  history  and  histori- 
cal writers  who  ignore  the  prevailing  literary  and  educa- 
tional conditions,  therein  make  a  great  mistake.  He  fails 
fatally  who  fails  to  conform  to  his  environment ;  and  this 
is  no  less  true  of  the  historian  than  of  the  novelist  or 
politician. 

In  otlier  words,  what  have  we  to  say  of  those  wlio  read  ? 
What  do  we  know  of  them?  Not  much,  I  fancy.  In 
spite  of  our  public  libraries,  and  in  spite  of  tlie  immensely 
increased  diffusion  of  j)rinted  matter  througli  tlie  agency 
of  tliose  Hbraries  and  of  the  press,  what  those  who  com- 
pose tlie  great  mass  of  tin;  community  are  reading,  what 
enters  into  their  intellectual  nutriment,  and  thence  passes 
into  the  secretions  of  tlie  body  politic, — this,  I  imagine, 
is  a  subject  chiefly  of  surmise.  The  field  is  one  upon 
which  I  do  not  now  propose  to  enter.  Too  large,  it  is 
also  a  pathless  wilderness.     I  would,  however,   earnestly 


41 

commend  it  to  some  more  competent  treatment  at  an  early 
convention  of  librarians  or  publishers.  To-day  we  must 
confine  ourselves  to  history.  For  what,  in  the  way  of 
history,  is  the  demand  ?  Who  are  at  present  the  popular 
historical  writers?  How  can  the  lessons  of  the  past  be 
most  readily  and  most  effectually  brought  home  to  the 
mind  and  thoughts  of  the  great  reading  public,  vastly 
greater  and  more  intelligent  now  than  ever  before  ? 

This  is  something  upon  which  the  census  throws  no 
light.  There  is  a  widespread  impression  among  those 
more  or  less  qualified  to  form  an  opinion  that  the  general 
capacity  for  sustained  reading  and  thinking  has  not  in- 
creased or  been  strengthened  with  the  passage  of  the 
years.  On  the  contrary,  the  indications,  it  is  currently 
sup2)0sed,  are  rather  of  emasculation.  Everything  must 
now  be  made  easy  and  short.  There  is  a  constant  demand 
felt,  especially  by  our  periodical  press,  for  information  on 
all  sorts  of  subjects,  —  historical,  philosophical,  scientific, 
—  but  it  must  be  set  forth  in  what  is  known  as  a  popular 
style,  that  is  introduced  into  the  reader  in  a  species  of 
sugared  capsule,  and  without  lea\ang  any  annoying  taste 
on  the  intellectual  palate.  The  average  reader,  it  is  said, 
wants  to  know  something  concerning  all  the  topics  of 
the  day ;  but,  while  it  is  highly  desirable  he  should  be 
gratified  in  this  laudable,  though  languid,  craving,  he 
must  not  be  fatigued  in  the  effort  of  acquisition,  and  he 
will  not  submit  to  be  bored.  It  is  then  further  argued 
that  this  was  not  the  case  formerly ;  that  in  what  are 
commonly  alluded  to  as  "  the  good  old  times,"  —  always 
the  times  of  the  grandparents,  —  people  had  fewer  books, 
and  fewer  people  read ;  but  those  who  did  read,  deterred 
neither  by  number  of  pages  nor  by  dryness  of  treatment, 
were  equal  to  the  feat  of  reading.  To-day,  on  the  con- 
trary, almost  no  one  rises  to  more  than  a  magazine  article  ; 
a  volume  appalls. 

This  is  an   extremely  interesting  subject  of  inquiry, 


42 

■were  the  real  facts  only  attainable.  Unfortunately  they 
are  not.  We  are  forced  to  deal  with  impressions ;  and 
impressions,  always  vague,  are  usually  deceptive.  At  the 
same  time,  when  glimpses  of  a  more  or  less  remote  past 
do  now  and  again  reach  us,  they  seem  to  indicate  mental 
conditions  calculated  to  excite  our  special  wonder.  We 
do  know,  for  instance,  that  in  the  olden  days,  —  before 
public  libraries  and  periodicals,  and  the  modern  cheap 
press  and  the  Sunday  newspaper  were  devised,  —  when 
books  were  rarities,  and  reading  a  somewhat  rare  accom- 
plishment,—  the  Bible,  Shakespeare,  Paradise  Lost,  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress  and  Robinson  Crusoe,  the  Specta- 
tor and  Tatler,  Barrows'  Sermons  and  Hume's  History 
of  England  were  the  standard  household  and  family 
literature ;  and  the  Bible  was  read  and  reread  until  its 
slightest  allusions  passed  into  familiar  speech.  Indeed, 
the  Bible,  in  King  James's  version,  may  be  said  to  have 
been  for  the  great  mass  of  the  community,  —  those  who 
now  have  recourse  to  the  Sunday  paper,  —  the  sum  and 
substance  of  English  literature.  In  this  respect  it  is 
fairly  open  to  question  whether  the  course  of  evolution 
has  tended  altogether  toward  improvement.  Now  and 
again,  however,  we  get  one  of  these  retrospective  glimpses 
which  is  simply  bewildering ;  and,  while  indulging  in  it, 
one  cannot  help  pondering  over  the  mental  conditions 
which  once  apparently  prevailed.  The  question  suggests 
itself,  wore  there  giants  in  tliose  days?  —  or  did  the 
reader  ask  for  bread,  and  did  they  give  him  a  stone  ?  We 
know,  for  instance,  what  the  public  library  and  circulat- 
ing library  of  to-day  are.  We  know,  to  a  certain  extent, 
wliut  th(!  reading  demand  is,  and  wlio  tlie  ])()pnlar  authors 
arc.  We  know  that,  while  history  must  content  itself 
with  a  poor  one  in  twenty,  the  call  for  works  of  fiction  is 
more  tlian  a  lliird  of  tlie  wliolc,  while  nearly  eighty  per 
cent,  of  the  ordinarv  circulation  is  made  up  of  novels, 
story    books    for    children,    and    periodicals.      It    is    the 


43 

lightest  form  of  pabulum.     This,  in  1900.     Now,  let  us 
get  a  glimpse  of  "  the  good  old  times." 

In  the  year  1790,  a  humorous  rascal  named  Burroughs 
—  once  widely  known  as  "  the  notorious  Stephen  Bur- 
roughs" —  found  himself  stranded  in  a  town  on  Long 
Island,  New  York,  a  refugee  from  a  Massachusetts  gaol 
and  whipping-post,  the  penalties  incurred  in  or  at  both  of 
which  he  had  richly  merited.  In  the  place  of  his  refuge, 
Burroughs  served  as  the  village  schoolmaster ;  and,  being 
of  an  observant  turn  of  mind,  he  did  not  fail  presently  to 
note  that  the  people  of  the  place  were  "  very  illiterate," 
and  almost  entirely  destitute  of  books  of  any  kind,  "  except 
schoolbooks  and  bibles."  Finding  among  the  younger 
people  of  the  community  many  "  possessing  bright  abilities 
and  a  strong  thirst  for  information,"  Burroughs  asserts 
that  he  bestirred  liimself  to  secure  the  funds  necessary 
to  found  the  nucleus  of  a  public  library.  Having  in  a 
measure  succeeded,  a  meeting  of  "the  proprietors"  was 
called  "  for  the  purpose  of  selecting  a  catalogue  of 
books ; "  and  presently  the  different  members  presented 
lists  "  peculiar  to  their  own  tastes."  Prior  to  this  meet- 
ing it  had  been  alleged  that  the  people  generally  antici- 
pated that  the  books  would  be  selected  by  the  clergyman 
of  the  church,  and  would  "  consist  of  books  of  divinity, 
and  dry  metaphysical  writings ;  whereas,  should  they  be 
assured  that  histories  and  books  of  information  would 
be  procured,"  they  would  have  felt  very  differently.  And 
now,  when  the  lists  were  submitted,  "  Deacon  Hodges 
brought  forward  ^Essays  on  the  Divine  Authority  for 
Infant  Baptism,'  '  Terms  of  Church  Communion,'  ^  The 
Careful  Watchman,'  '  Age  of  Grace,'  etc. ;  Deacon  Cook's 
collection  was  'History  of  Martyrs,'  ^Rights  of  Con- 
science,' '  Modern  Pharisees,'  '  Defence  of  Separates  ; '  Mr. 
Woolworth  exhibited  '  Edwards  against  Chauncy,'  '  His- 
tory of  Redemption,'  '  Jennings's  Views,'  etc. ;  Judge 
Hui-lbut  concurred  in  the  same ;  Dr.  Rose  exhibited  '  Gay's 


44 

Fables/  '  Pleasing  Companion,'  ^  Tui-ldsh  Spy/  while  I/' 
wrote  BuiTOuglis,  "  for  the  third  time  recommended 
*  Hmue's  History/  ^  Voltaii'e's  Histories/  '  RoUin's  An- 
cient History/  *  Plutarch's  Lives/  etc." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  mark  more  strikingly  the  devel- 
opment of  a  centui-y,  than  by  thus  presenting  Hume's 
History  and  RoUin  as  tjpical  of  what  was  deemed  light 
and  popular  reading  at  one  end  of  it,  and  the  Sunday 
newspaper  at  the  other.  As  I  have  ah-eady  intunated, 
they  were  either  giants  in  those  days,  or  husks  supphed 
milk  for  babes.  Recui-ring,  however,  to  present  con- 
ditions, the  popular  demand  for  historical  hterature  is 
undoubtedly  vastly  larger  than  it  was  a  centuiy  ago ;  nor 
is  it  by  any  means  so  clear  as  is  usually  assumed  that  the 
solid  reathng  and  thinking  power  of  the  community  has 
at  all  deteriorated.  That  yet  remains  to  be  proved.  A 
century  ago,  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind,  there  were  no 
pubhc  libraries  at  all,  and  the  private  collections  of  books 
were  comparatively  few  and  small.  It  is  safe,  probably, 
to  assume  that  there  are  a  hundred,  or  even  a  thousand, 
readers  now  to  one  then.  On  this  head  nothing  even 
approximating  to  what  would  be  deemed  conclusive  evi- 
dence is  attainable ;  but  the  fair  assumption  is  that,  while 
the  light  and  ephemeral,  knowledge-made-easy  reading  is 
a  development  of  these  latter  years,  it  has  in  no  way  dis- 
placed the  more  sustained  reading  and  severe  thought 
of  the  earlier  time.  On  the  contrary,  that  also  has  had 
its  share  of  increase.  Take  Gibbon,  for  instance.  A 
few  years  ago,  an  acute  and  })()})ular  English  critic,  in 
sjx'aklng  of  tlie  newly  pul)lishcd  "  Memoirs  "  of  Gibbon, 
used  tliis  language:  —  '^  All  readers  of  the  'Decline  and 
Fall/  —  that  is  to  say,  all  men  and  women  of  a  sound 
education,"  etc.  If  Mr.  Frederic  Harrison  was  correct 
in  his  generalization  in  189(),  certainly  more  conld  not 
have  been  said  in  179G ;  and,  during  the  intervening 
hundred  years,  the  class  of  those  who  have  received  "  a 


45 

sound  education  "  has  undergone  a  prodigious  increase. 
Take  Harvard  College,  for  instance ;  in  179G  it  gradu- 
ated thirty-three  students,  and  in  1896  it  graduated  four 
hundred  and  eight,  —  an  increase  of  more  than  twelve- 
fold. In  1796,  also,  there  were  not  a  tenth  part  of 
the  institutions  of  advanced  education  in  the  country 
which  now  exist.  The  statistics  of  the  publishing  houses 
and  the  shelves  of  the  bookseUing  establishments  all 
point  to  the  same  conclusion.  Of  course,  it  does  not 
follow  that  because  a  book  is  bought  it  is  also  read  ;  but 
it  is  not  unsafe  to  say  that  twenty  copies  of  Gibbon's 
"Dechne  and  Fall"  are  called  for  in  the  bookstores  of 
to-day  to  one  that  was  called  for  in  1800. 

On  this  subject,  however,  very  instructive  Hght  may  be 
derived  from  another  quarter.  I  refer  to  the  Public 
Library.  While  discussing  the  question  eighteen  months 
ago,  I  ventured  to  state  that,  "  in  the  case  of  one  Public 
Library  in  a  considerable  Massachusetts  city  I  had  been 
led  to  conclude,  as  the  result  of  examination  and  some- 
what careful  inquiry,  that  the  copy  of  the  '  Decline  and 
Fall '  on  its  shelves,  had,  in  over  thirty  years,  not  once 
been  consecutively  read  through  by  a  single  individual." 
I  have  since  made  further  and  more  careful  inquiry  on 
this  point  from  other,  and  larger,  though  similar  institu- 
tions, and  the  inference  I  then  drew  has  been  confirmed 
and  generalized.  I  have  also  sought  information  as  to 
the  demand  for  historical  literature,  and  the  tendency  and 
character  of  the  reading  so  far  as  it  could  be  ascertained, 
or  approximately  inferred.  I  have  submitted  my  list  of 
historical  writers,  and  inquired  as  to  the  call  for  them. 
Suggestive  in  all  respects,  the  results  have,  in  some,  been 
little  less  than  startling.  Take  for  instance  popularity, 
and  let  me  recur  to  Macaulay  and  Carlyle.  I  have  spoken 
of  the  two  as  great  masters  in  historical  composition,  — 
comparing  them  in  their  field  to  Turner  and  Millet  in  the 
field  of  art.     Like  Turner  and  Millet,  they  influenced  to 


46 

a  marked  extent  a  whole  generation  of  workers  that  en- 
sued. To  such  an  extent  did  they  influence  it  that  a 
scholastic  reaction  against  them  set  in,  —  a  reaction  as 
distinct  as  it  was  strong.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  that 
reaction,  to  what  extent  did  the  master  retain  his  popular 
hold  ?  I  admit  that  my  astonishment  was  great  when  I 
learned  that  between  1880,  more  than  twenty  years  after 
his  death,  and  1900,  besides  innumerable  editions  issued 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  the  authorized  London 
publishers  of  Macaulay  had  sold  in  two  shapes  only,  — 
and  they  appear  in  many  other  shapes,  —  80,000  copies 
of  his  History  and  90,000  of  his  Miscellanies.  Of 
Carlyle  and  the  call  for  his  writings  I  could  gather  no 
such  specific  particulars ;  but,  in  reply  to  my  inquiries,  I 
was  generally  advised  that,  while  tlie  English  demand  had 
been  large,  there  was  no  considerable  American  publish- 
ing house  which  had  not  brought  out  partial  or  complete 
editions  of  his  works.  They  also  were  referred  to  as 
"  innumerable."  ^  In  other  words,  wdien  a  generation  that 
knew  them  not  had  passed  away,  the  works  of  the  two 
great  masters  of  historical  literary  form  in  our  day  sold 
beyond  all  compare  with  the  productions  of  any  of  the 
living  writers  most  in  vogue ;  and  this  while  the  profes- 
sorial dry-as-dust  reaction  against  those  masters  Avas  in 
fullest  swing. 

With  a  vast  amount  of  material  unused,^  and  much  still 

'  At  least  twenty  (20)  American  publishing  houses  have  broun^ht  out 
(•(iiiij>lcti'  editions  of  Maeaulny,  both  his  Miscellanies  and  the  History  of 
7Mif,Maiid.  Many  of  these  editions  have  becMi  exjiensive,  and  they  seem 
iiiiifoiinly  to  have  met  with  a  ready  demand.  Almost  every  American 
pulilishinfj  house  of  any  note  lias  broujj^ht  out  editions  of  some  of  the 
KssayH.  Tlic  same  is,  to  a  less  extent,  true  of  Carlyle.  Seven  (7)  houses 
have  brought  out  comjdete  editions  of  his  works  ;  while  three  (^)  others 
have  put  on  the  market  imported  editions,  bearing  an  American  imprint. 
Separate  editions  of  the  more  popular  of  his  writings  —  some  cheap,  others 
(If  luxe  —  have  been  brought  out  by  nearly  every  American  publishing  con- 
cern. 

'  See  Appendix  1),  p.  .W. 


47 

unsaid,  I  propose,  in  concluding,  to  trespass  still  further 
on  your  patience  while  I  draw  a  lesson  to  which  the 
first  portion  of  my  discourse  will  contribute  not  less 
than  the  second.  A  great,  as  well  as  a  very  volumi- 
nous, recent  historical  writer  has  coined  the  apothegm, 
—  "  History  is  past  politics,  and  politics  are  present 
History."  The  proposition  is  one  I  do  not  now  pro- 
pose to  discuss,  except  to  suggest  that,  however  it  may 
have  been  heretofore,  what  is  known  as  politics  will  be 
but  a  part,  and  by  no  means  the  most  important  part,  of 
the  history  of  the  future.  The  historian  will  look  deeper. 
It  was  President  Lincoln  who  said  in  one  of  the  few  im- 
mortal utterances  of  the  century,  —  an  utterance,  be  it 
also  observed,  hmited  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  words,  — 
that  this,  our,  nation  was  "  conceived  in  liberty,  and 
dedicated  to  the  proposition  that  all  men  are  created 
equal;"  and  that  it  was  for  us  highly  to  resolve  "that 
government  of  the  people,  by  the  people,  for  the  people, 
should  not  perish  from  the  earth."  It  was  James  Russell 
Lowell,  who,  when  asked  in  Paris  by  the  historian  Guizot 
many  years  since,  how  long  the  Republic  of  the  United 
States  might  reasonably  be  expected  to  endure,  happily 
replied,  —  "  So  long  as  the  ideas  of  its  founders  continue 
dominant."  In  the  first  place,  I  hold  it  not  unsafe  to 
say  that,  looking  forward  into  a  future  not  now  remote, 
the  mission  of  the  Republic  and  the  ideas  of  the  founders 
will  more  especially  rest  in  the  hands  of  those  agricultural 
communities  of  the  Northwest,  where  great  aggregations 
of  a  civic  populace  are  few,  and  the  principles  of  natural 
selection  have  had  the  fullest  and  the  freest  play  in  the 
formation  of  the  race.  Such  is  Wisconsin ;  such  Iowa ; 
such  Minnesota.  In  their  hands,  and  in  the  hands  of 
communities  like  them,  ^vill  rest  the  ark  of  our  covenant. 
In  the  next  place,  for  the  use  and  future  behoof  of 
those  communities  I  hold  that  the  careful  and  intelligent 
reading  of  the  historical  lessons  of  the  past  is  all  im- 


48 

portant.  Without  that  reading,  and  a  constant  emphasis 
laid  upon  its  lessons,  the  nature  of  that  mission  and  those 
ideas  to  which  Lincoln  and  Lowell  alluded  cannot  be 
kept  fi'esh  in  mind.  This  institution  I  accordingly  regard 
as  the  most  precious  of  all  Wisconsin's  endowments  of 
education.  It  should  be  the  sheet  anchor  by  which, 
amid  the  storms  and  turbulence  of  a  tempestuous  future, 
the  ship  of  State  will  be  anchored  to  the  firm  holding- 
ground  of  tradition.  It  is  to  further  this  result  that 
I  to-day  make  appeal  to  the  historian  of  the  future. 
His,  in  this  community,  is  a  great  and  important  mis- 
sion ;  a  mission  which  he  will  not  fulfil  unless  he  to  a 
large  extent  frees  himself  from  the  trammels  of  the 
past,  and  rises  to  an  equality  with  the  occasion.  He 
must  be  a  prophet  and  a  poet,  as  well  as  an  investigator 
and  an  annalist.  He  must  cut  loose  from  many  of  the 
models  and  most  of  the  precedents  of  the  immediate  past, 
and  the  educational  precepts  now  so  commonly  in  vogue. 
He  must  perplex  the  modern  college  professor  by  assert- 
ing that  soundness  is  not  always  and  of  necessity  dull, 
and  that  even  intellectual  sobriety  may  be  carried  to  an 
excess.  Not  only  is  it  possible  for  a  writer  to  combine 
learning  and  accuracy  with  vivacity,  but  to  be  read  and 
to  be  popular  should  not  in  the  eyes  of  the  judicious  be 
a  species  of  stigma.  Historical  research  may,  on  the 
other  hand,  result  in  a  more  lumber  of  learning ;  and, 
even  in  the  portrayal  of  the  sequence  of  events,  it  is  to 
a  man's  credit  that  he  should  strive  to  see  thing's  from 
the  point  of  view  of  an  artist,  rather  than,  looking  with 
the  dull  eye  of  a  mechanic,  seek  to  measure  tluMu  with 
the  mechanic's  twelve-inch  rule.  I  confess  myself  Aveary 
of  those  reactionary  influences  amid  which  of  late  we 
have  lived.  1  distinctly  look  back  with  regret  to  that 
more  spiritual  and  more  confident  time  when  we  of  the 
generation  now  ]>assing  from  the  stage  drew  our  inspi- 
ration   from   prophets,   and  not  from    laboratories.     So 


49 

to-day  I  make  bold  to  maintain  that  the  greatest  bene- 
factor America  could  have  —  far  more  immediately  influ- 
ential than  any  possible  President  or  Senator  or  peripa- 
tetic political  practitioner,  as  well  as  infinitely  more  so 
in  a  remote  future  —  would  be  some  historical  writer, 
occupying  perhaps  a  chair  here  at  Madison,  who  would 
in  speech  and  book  explain  and  expound,  as  they  could 
be  explained  and  expounded,  the  lessons  of  American 
history  and  the  fundamental  principles  of  American  his- 
torical faith. 

It  was  Macaulay  who  made  his  boast  that,  disregard- 
ing the  traditions  which  constituted  what  he  contemptu- 
ously termed  "  the  dignity  of  history,"  he  would  set  forth 
England's  story  in  so  attractive  a  form  that  his  volumes 
should  displace  the  last  novel  from  the  work-table  of  the 
London  society  girl.  And  he  did  it.  It  is  but  the  other 
day  that  an  American  naval  officer  suddenly  appeared  in 
the  field  of  historical  literature,  and,  by  two  volumes, 
sensibly  modified  the  policy  of  nations.  Here  are  pre- 
cept and  example.  To  accomplish  similar  results  should, 
I  hold,  be  the  ambition  of  the  American  historian. 
Popularity  he  should  court  as  a  necessary  means  to  an 
end ;  and  that  he  should  attain  popularity,  he  must 
study  the  art  of  presentation  as  much  and  as  thought- 
fully as  he  delves  amid  the  original  material  of  history. 
Becoming  more  of  an  artist,  rhetorician  and  philosopher 
than  he  now  is,  he  must  be  less  of  a  pedant  and  color- 
less investigator.  In  a  word,  going  back  to  Moses, 
Thucydides  and  Herodotus ;  Tacitus,  Gibbon  and  Vol- 
taire ;  Niebuhr,  Macaulay,  Carlyle,  Buckle,  Green, 
Mommsen  and  Froude,  he  must  study  their  systems,  and, 
avoiding  the  mistakes  into  which  they  fell,  thoughtfully 
accommodating  himself  to  the  conditions  of  the  present, 
he  must  prepare  to  fulfil  the  mission  before  him.  He 
will  then  in  time  devise  what  is  so  greatly  needed  for  our 
political  life,  the  distinctively  American  historical  method 


60 

o£  the  future.  0£  this  we  have  as  yet  had  hardly  the 
promise,  and  that  only  recently  through  the  pages  of 
Fiske  and  Mahan ;  and  I  cannot  help  surmising  that  it  is 
to  some  Eastern  seed  planted  here  in  the  freer  environ- 
ment of  the  more  fruitful  West  that  we  must  look  for  its 
ultimate  realization. 


APPENDIX. 

A. 

The  fact  that  the  southern  portion  of  the  State  of  Wisconsin  was 
formerly,  in  a  certain  sense  at  least,  a  portion  of  Massachusetts,  is, 
even  historically,  more  curious  than  interesting  or  valuable.  In  re- 
gard to  it  the  following  extracts  are  from  a  Report  of  its  Council 
made  to  the  American  Antiquarian  Society  at  Worcester,  October  21, 
1890,^  by  Samuel  A.  Green,  than  whom,  on  a  matter  of  this  sort  con- 
nected with  Massachusetts  history,  there  is  no  higher  Uving  authority. 

"  The  Colonial  Charter  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  granted  by  Charles 
I.,  under  date  of  March  4,  1628-9,  gave  to  the  Governor  and  other 
representatives  of  the  Massachusetts  Company,  on  certain  conditions, 
all  the  teiTitory  lying  between  an  easterly  and  westerly  line  running 
three  miles  north  of  any  part  of  the  Merrimack  River,  and  extending 
from  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  the  Pacific,  and  a  similar  parallel  hue  run- 
ning south  of  any  part  of  the  Charles  River." 

The  exact  words  of  the  original  instrument,  bearing  on  the  matter 
under  discussion,  were  :  — 

"  All  that  parte  of  Newe  England  in  America  which  lyes  and  ex- 
tendes  betweene  a  great  river  there  coiuonlie  called  Monomack  river, 
alias  Merrimack  river,  and  a  certen  other  river  there  called  Charles 
river,  being  in  the  bottome  of  a  certen  bay  there  coiuonlie  called  Mas- 
sachusetts, alias  Mattachusetts,  aUas  Massatusetts  bay :  .  .  .  And  also 
all  those  lands  and  hereditaments  whatsoever  which  lye  and  be  within 
the  space  of  three  EngHsh  myles  to  the  northward  of  the  saide  river 
called  Monomack,  aUas  Merrymack,  or  to  the  norward  of  any  and 
every  parte  thereof,  and  aU  landes  and  hereditaments  whatsoever,  lye- 
ing  within  the  lymitts  aforesaide,  north  and  south,  in  latitude  and 
bredth,  and  in  length  and  longitude,  of  and  within  all  the  bredth 
aforesaide,  tliroughout  the  mayne  landes  there  from  the  Atlantick  and 
westerne  sea  and  ocean  on  the  east  parte,  to  the  south  sea  on  the  west 
parte  :  " 

"  Without  attempting  to  trace  in  detail,  from  the  time  of  the  Cabots 
to  the  days  of  the  Charter,  the  continuity  of  the  English  title  to  this 
transcontinental  strip  of  territory,  it  is  enough  to  know  that  the  pre- 
cedents and  usages  of  that  period  gave  to  Great  Britain,  in  theory  at 
^  Proceedings   (New  Series),  voL  viL  pp.  11-32. 


62 

least,  undisputed  sway  over  the  region,  and  forged  every  link  in  the 
chain  of  authority  and  sovereignty'." 

"  At  that  time  it  was  supposed  that  America  was  a  narrow  strip  of 
land,  —  j)erhaps  an  arm  of  the  continent  of  Asia,  —  and  that  the  dis- 
tance across  from  ocean  to  ocean  was  comparatively  short.  It  was 
then  known  that  the  Isthmus  of  Darien  was  narrow,  and  it  was  there- 
fore incorrectly  presumed  that  the  whole  continent  also  was  narrow." 

"  By  later  explorations  this  strip  of  territory  has  heen  lengthened 
out  into  a  helt  three  thousand  miles  long.  It  crosses  a  continent,  and 
includes  within  its  limits  various  large  towns  of  the  United  States. 
The  cities  of  Albany,  Syracuse,  Rochester,  Buffalo,  Detroit,  and  Mil- 
waukee all  lie  within  the  zone.  There  have  been  many  social  and 
commercial  ties  between  the  capital  of  New  England  and  these  sev- 
eral municipalities,  but  in  comparison  with  another  bond  they  are  of 
recent  date,  as  the  ground  on  which  they  stand  was  granted  to  the 
Massachusetts  Company  by  the  Charter  of  Charles  I.,  moret  han  two 
hundred  and  sixty  years  ago." 

"  After  the  lapse  of  some  years  the  settlers  took  steps  to  find  out  the 
territorial  boundaries  of  the  Colony  on  the  north  in  order  to  estabUsh 
the  limits  of  their  jurisdictional  authority.  To  this  end  at  an  early 
day  a  Conamission  was  api)ointcd  by  the  General  Court,  com])osed  of 
Captain  Simon  Wilhird  and  Ca])tain  Edward  Johnson,  two  of  the 
foremost  men  in  the  Colony  at  that  time." 

"  It  will  be  seen  that  the  Commissioners  were  empowered,  under  the 
order,  to  engage  '  sucli  Artists  &  other  Assistants,'  as  were  needed 
for  tlie  jjurpose.  In  e.arly  days  a  surveyor  was  called  an  artist,  and  in 
oM  records  the  word  is  often  found  with  that  meaning.  Under  the 
autliority  thus  given,  the  Connnissioners  emi)loycd  Sergeant  John 
Sbcrman,  of  Watcrtown,  and  Jonathan  Incc.  of  Cand)ridge,  to  join 
tlie  jmrty  and  do  the  scientific;  work  of  the  exj)edition." 

"In  October,  1(552,  the  Commissioners  ma<h'  a  return  to  the  Gen- 
eral Court,  giving  the  resuh,  of  tlieir  hibors,  and  including  the  allida- 
vits  of  the  two  surveyors.  According  to  this  repoit  ihey  lixed  upon  a 
place  then  called  by  the  Indians  Aciuedahtan  as  the  bead  (»f  the  Merri- 
mack river.  By  due  observation  they  found  tbc  latitude  of  this  spot 
to  be  4'.V'  40'  12";  and  tbe  nortbeni  limit  of  tbc  jjatent  was  three 
miles  north  of  this  jtoinl.  " 

An  extension  of  tlie  noithcrn  limit  thus  indicated  would,  crossing 


63 

Lake  Michigan,  run  west,  from  a  point  about  three  miles  south  of 
Sheboygan,  througli  Fond  du  Lac,  Green  Lake  and  Marquette  coun- 
ties, some  six  miles  north  of  their  southern  boundaries,  thus  bisecting 
Wisconsin. 

B. 

The  full  record  of  J.  Q.  Adams's  utterances  on  this  most  important 
subject  has  never  been  made  up.  (See  Works  of  Charles  Sumner, 
vol.  vi.  pp.  19-23 ;  vol.  vii.  p.  142.)  Historically  speaking,  it  is  of 
exceptional  significance:  and,  accordingly,  for  convenience  of  refer- 
ence, a  partial  record  is  here  presented. 

In  1836,  Mr.  Adams  represented  in  Congress  what  was  then  the 
Massachusetts  "  Plymouth  "  district.  In  April  of  that  year  the  issue, 
which,  just  twenty-five  years  later,  was  to  result  in  overt  civil  war, 
was  fast  assuming  shape  ;  for,  on  the  21st  of  the  month,  the  battle  of 
San  Jacinto  was  fought,  resulting  immediately  in  the  independence 
of  Texas,  and  more  remotely  in  its  annexation  to  the  United  States 
and  the  consequent  war  of  spoliation  (1846-48)  with  Mexico.  At  the 
same  time  petitions  in  great  number  were  pouring  into  Congress  from 
the  Northern  States  asking  for  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  the  prohi- 
bition of  the  domestic  slave  trade,  in  the  District  of  Columbia ;  the 
admission  into  the  Union  of  Arkansas,  with  a  constitution  recognizing 
slavery,  was  also  under  consideration.  In  the  course  of  a  long  per- 
sonal letter  dated  April  4th,  1836,  wi'itten  to  the  Hon.  Solomon  Lin- 
coln, of  Hingham,  a  prominent  constituent  of  his,  Mr.  Adams  made 
the  following  incidental  reference  to  the  whole  subject,  indicative  of 
the  degree  to  which  the  question  of  martial  law  as  a  possible  factor 
in  the  solution  of  the  problem  then  occupied  his  mind  :  — 

"  The  new  pretensions  of  the  Slave  representation  in  Congress,  of 
a  right  to  refuse  to  receive  Petitions,  and  that  Congress  have  no  Con- 
stitutional power  to  abolish  slavery  or  the  slave  trade  in  the  District 
of  Columbia  forced  upon  me  so  much  of  tlie  discussion  as  I  did  take 
upon  me,  but  in  which  you  are  well  aware  I  did  not  and  could  not 
speak  a  tenth  part  of  my  mind.  I  did  not,  for  example,  start  the 
question  whether  by  the  Law  of  God  and  of  Nature  man  can  hold 
property,  hereditary  property  in  man  —  I  did  not  start  the  question 
whether  in  the  event  of  a  servile  insurrection  and  War,  Congress 
would  not  have  complete,  unlimited  control  over  the  whole  subject  of 
slavery  even  to  the  emancipation  of  all  the  slaves  in  the  State  where 
such  insurrection  should  break  out,  and  for  the  suppression  of  which 
the  freemen  of  Plymouth  and  Norfolk  Counties,  Massachusetts,  should 
be  called  by  Acts  of  Congress  to  pour  out  their  treasures  and  to  shed 
their  blood.  Had  I  spoken  my  mind  on  those  two  points  the  sturdi- 
est of  the  abolitionists  would  have  disavowed  the  sentiments  of  their 
champion." 


54 

A  little  more  than  seven  weeks  after  thus  writing,  Mr.  Adams  made 
the  following  entries  in  liis  diary  :  — 

3Iay  25th.  —  ''  At  the  House,  the  motion  of  Robertson,  to  recommit 
Pinckneys  slavery  report,  ^\'ith  instructions  to  report  a  resolution  de- 
claring that  Congress  has  no  constitutional  authority  to  ahoUsh  slavery 
in  the  District  of  Columbia,  as  an  amendment  to  the  motion  for  print- 
ing an  extra  number  of  the  report,  Avas  first  considered.  Robertson 
finished  his  speech,  which  was  vehement.   .  .  . 

"  Immediately  after  the  conclusion  of  Robertson's  speech  I  ad- 
dressed the  Speaker,  but  he  gave  the  floor  to  Owens,  of  Georgia,  one 
of  the  signing  members  of  the  committee,  who  moved  the  previous 
question,  and  refused  to  withdraw  it.  It  was  seconded  and  carried, 
by  yeas  and  nays.  .  .  . 

"  The  hour  of  one  came,  and  the  order  of  the  day  was  called  —  a 
joint  resolution  from  the  Senate,  authorizing  the  President  to  cause 
rations  to  be  furnished  to  suffering  fugitives  from  Indian  hostilities  in 
Alabama  and  Georgia.  Committee  of  the  whole  on  the  Union,  and  a 
debate  of  five  hours,  in  which  I  made  a  speech  of  about  an  hour, 
wherein  I  opened  the  whole  subject  of  the  Mexican,  Indian,  negro,  and 
English  war." 

It  was  in  the  course  of  this  speech  that  Mr.  Adams  firet  enunciated 
the  principle  of  emancipation  through  martial  law,  exercised  under  the 
Constitution  in  time  of  war.     He  did  so  in  the  following  passage  :  — 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  are  you  ready  for  all  these  wars  ?  A  Mexican 
war.  A  war  with  Great  Britain  if  not  with  France  ?  A  general  In- 
dian war  ?  A  servile  war  ?  And,  as  an  inevitable  consequence  of 
them  all,  a  civil  war  ?  For  it  must  ultimately  terminate  in  a  war  of 
colors  as  well  as  of  races.  And  do  you  imagine  that,  while  with  your 
cyos  o])en  you  are  wilfully  kindling,  and  then  closing  your  eyes  and 
l>lindly  rushing  into  them ;  do  you  imagine  that  while  in  the  very  na- 
ture of  things,  your  own  Southern  and  Southwestern  States  nuist  be 
the  Flanders  of  these  (•(imjdicated  wars,  the  battlefield  on  which  tlie  last 
great  battle  must  be  fouglit  between  slavery  and  emancipation  ;  do  you 
imagine  tbat  your  Congress  will  have  no  constitutional  authority  to  in- 
terfere with  the  institution  of  slavery  in  any  way  in  the  SUites  of  this 
Confederacy  ?  Sir,  they  nuist  and  will  interfere  with  it —  perhaps  to 
sustain  it  by  war  ;  ])erba])s  to  abnlisli  it  l)y  treaties  of  ])eace  ;  and  they 
will  not  only  possess  the  const  it  ntional  ]tower  so  to  interf»'re,  but  they 
will  be  lionml  in  diitv  to  do  it  !)>■  tbe  express  ])rovisions  of  the  Consti- 
tution itsell.  Kruni  tbe  instant  that  your  slavebolding  St^ites  become 
the  theatre  of  war,  civil,  servile  or  foreign,  from  that  instant  tbe  war 
powers  of  Congrc^ss  extend  to  interference  with  the  institution  of  slav- 
(!ry  in  every  way  in  which  it  can  be  interfered  with,  from  a  claim  of 
indemnity  for  slaves  taken  or  destroyed,  to  the  cession  of  the  State 
bnrdeneil  witli  slavery  to  a  foreign  power." 


55 

The  following  references  to  this  speech  are  then  found  in  the 
diary  :  — 

May  29th.  —  "I  was  occupied  all  the  leisure  of  the  day  and  even- 
ing in  writing  out  for  publication  my  speech  made  last  Wednesday  in 
the  House  of  Representatives  —  one  of  the  most  hazardous  that  I  ever 
made,  and  the  reception  of  which,  even  by  the  people  of  my  own  dis- 
trict and  State,  is  altogether  uncertain." 

June  2d.  —  "  My  speech  on  the  disti'ibution  of  rations  to  the  fugi- 
tives from  Indian  hostilities  in  Alabama  and  Georgia  was  published 
in  the  National  Intelligencer  of  this  morning,  and  a  subscription  paper 
was  circulated  in  the  House  for  printing  it  in  a  pamphlet,  for  which 
Gales  told  me  there  were  twenty-five  hundred  copies  ordered.  Several 
members  of  the  House  of  both  parties  spoke  of  it  to  me,  some  with 
strong  dissent." 

Jtme  19th.  —  "  My  speech  on  the  rations  comes  back  with  echoes 
of  thundering  vitujjeration  from  the  South  and  West,  and  with  one 
universal  shout  of  applause  from  the  North  and  East.  This  is  a  cause 
upon  which  I  am  entering  at  the  last  stage  of  life,  and  with  the  cer- 
tainty that  I  cannot  advance  in  it  far ;  my  career  must  close,  leaving 
the  cause  at  the  tlu'eshold.  To  open  the  way  for  others  is  aU  that  I 
can  do.     The  cause  is  good  and  great." 

So  far  as  the  record  goes,  the  doctrine  was  not  again  propounded 
by  Mr.  Adams  until  1841.  On  the  7th  of  June  of  that  year  he  made 
a  speech  in  the  House  of  Representatives  in  support  of  a  motion  for  the 
repeal  of  the  Twenty-first  Rule  of  the  House,  commonly  known  as 
"  the  Atherton  Gag."  Of  this  speech,  no  report  exists ;  but  in  the 
course  of  it  he  again  enunciated  the  Martial  Law  theory  of  Emancipa- 
tion. The  next  day  he  was  followed  in  debate  by  C.  J.  Ingersoll,  of 
Pennsylvania,  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Foreign  Affairs,  who 
took  occasion  to  declare  that  what  he  had  heard  the  day  previous  had 
made  his  "  blood  curdle  with  horror  :  "  — 

"  Mr.  Adams  here  rose  in  explanation,  and  said  he  did  not  say  that 
in  the  event  of  a  servile  war  of  insurrection  of  slaves,  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States  would  be  at  an  end.  What  he  did  say  was  this, 
that  in  the  event  of  a  servile  war  or  insurrection  of  slaves,  if  the  peo- 
ple of  the  fi*ee  States  were  called  upon  to  suppress  the  insurrection, 
and  to  spend  their  blood  and  treasure  in  putting  an  end  to  the  war 
—  a  war  in  wliich  the  distinguished  Virginian,  the  author  of  the  De- 
claration of  Independence,  had  said  that  '  God  has  no  attribute  in 
favor  of  the  master '  —  then  he  would  not  say  that  Congress  might 
not  interfere  with  the  institution  of  slavery  in  the  States,  and  that, 
through  the  treaty-^Tiaking  power,  universal  emancipation  might  not 
be  the  result." 

The  following  year  the  contention  was  again  discussed  in  the  course 


56 

of  the  memorable  debate  on  the  "  Haverhill  Petition."  Mr.  Adams 
was  then  bitterly  assailed  by  Henry  A.  Wise,  of  Virginia,  and  Thomas 
F.  Marshall,  of  Kentucky.  Mr.  Adams  at  the  time  did  not  reply  to 
them  on  this  head ;  but,  on  the  14th  of  the  following  April,  occasion 
offered,  and  he  then  once  more  laid  down  the  law  on  the  subject,  as 
he  understood  it,  and  as  it  was  subsequently  put  in  force  :  — 

'•  I  would  leave  that  institution  to  the  exclusive  consideration  and 
management  of  the  States  more  peculiarly  interested  in  it,  just  as  long 
as  they  can  keep  within  their  own  bounds.  So  far  I  admit  that  Con- 
gress has  no  power  to  meddle  with  it.  As  long  as  they  do  not  step  out 
of  their  own  bounds,  and  do  not  put  the  question  to  the  peojjle  of  the 
United  States,  whose  peace,  welfare  and  happiness  are  all  at  stake, 
so  long  I  will  agree  to  leave  them  to  themselves.  But  when  a  member 
from  a  free  State  brings  forward  certain  resolutions,  for  which,  in- 
stead of  reasoning  to  disprove  his  positions,  you  vote  a  censure  upon 
him,  and  that  without  hearing,  it  is  quite  another  affair.  At  the  time 
this  was  done  I  said  that,  as  far  as  I  could  understand  the  resolutions 
proposed  by  the  gentleman  from  Ohio  (Mr.  Giddings),  there  were 
some  of  them  for  which  I  was  ready  to  vote,  and  some  which  I  nuist 
vote  against ;  and  I  will  now  tell  this  House,  my  constituents,  and  the 
world  of  mankind,  that  the  resolution  against  which  I  should  have 
voted  was  that  in  which  he  declares  that  what  are  called  the  slave 
States  have  the  exclusive  right  of  consultation  on  the  subject  of  slav- 
ery. For  that  resolution  I  never  would  vote,  because  I  believe  that  it 
is  not  just,  and  does  not  contain  constitutional  doctrine.  I  believe  that 
so  long  as  the  slave  States  are  able  to  sustain  their  institutions  with- 
out going  abroad  or  calling  u})on  other  parts  of  the  Union  to  aid  them 
or  act  on  the  subject,  so  long  I  will  consent  never  to  interfere. 

"  I  have  said  thi.s,  and  I  rejjcat  it ;  but  if  they  come  to  the  free  States 
and  say  to  them  you  must  help  us  to  keep  down  our  slaves,  you  must 
aid  us  in  an  insurrection  and  a  civil  war,  then  I  say  that  with  that 
call  conieH  a  full  and  ])lenai";y'  jxnver  to  this  House  and  to  the  Senate 
over  tlie  whole  suliject.  It  is  a  war  power.  I  say  it  is  a  war  j)ower, 
and  when  your  country  is  actually  in  war,  whether  it  be  a  war  of  in- 
vasion or  a  war  of  insurrection,  Congress  has  power  to  carry  on  the 
war,  and  must  carry  it  on  according  to  the  laws  of  war ;  and  by  the 
laws  of  war  an  invaded  country  has  all  its  laws  and  numicipal  institu- 
tions Hwei)t  by  the  board,  and  niailial  law  takes  tin-  place  of  them. 
This  power  in  Congress  has,  perliaps,  never  been  called  into  exercise 
under  tlie  present  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  But  when  the 
laws  of  war  are  in  force,  what,  I  ask,  is  one  of  those  laws  ?  It  is  this  : 
that  when  a  country  is  invaded,  and  two  liostile  armies  are  set  in  mar- 
tial array,  tlie  commanders  of  both  armies  have  power  to  emancijiate 
all  the  slaves  in  the  invaded  territory.     Nor  is  this  a  mere  theoretic 


57 

statement.  The  history  of  South  America  shows  that  the  doctrine 
has  been  carried  into  practical  execution  within  the  last  thirty  years. 
Slavery  was  abolished  in  Colombia,  first,  by  the  Spanish  General,  Mo- 
rillo,  and,  secondly,  by  the  American  General,  Bolivar.  It  was  abol- 
ished by  virtue  of  a  militaiy  command  given  at  the  head  of  the  army, 
and  its  abolition  continues  to  be  law  to  this  day.  It  was  abolished  by 
the  laws  of  war,  and  not  by  municipal  enactments  ;  the  power  was 
exercised  by  military  commanders,  under  instructions,  of  course,  from 
their  respective  Governments.  And  here  I  recur  again  to  the  ex- 
ample of  General  Jackson.  What  are  you  now  about  in  Congress  ? 
You  are  passing  a  grant  to  refund  to  General  Jackson  the  amount  of 
a  certain  fine  imposed  upon  him  by  a  Judge  under  the  laws  of  the 
State  of  Louisiana.  You  are  going  to  refund  him  the  money,  with 
interest ;  and  this  you  are  going  to  do  because  the  imposition  of  the 
fine  was  mijust.  And  why  was  it  unjust  ?  Because  General  Jackson 
was  acting  under  the  laws  of  war,  and  because  the  moment  you  place 
a  military  commander  in  a  district  wliich  is  the  theatre  of  war,  the 
laws  of  war  apply  to  that  district.  .  .  . 

"  I  might  furnish  a  thousand  proofs  to  show  that  the  pretensions  of 
gentlemen  to  the  sanctity  of  their  municipal  institutions  under  a  state 
of  actual  invasion  and  of  actual  war,  whether  servile,  civil,  or  foreign, 
is  wholly  unfounded,  and  that  the  laws  of  war  do,  in  all  such  cases,  take 
the  precedence.  I  lay  this  down  as  the  law  of  nations.  I  say  that  the 
military  authority  takes  for  the  time  the  place  of  all  municipal  insti- 
tutions, and  slavery  among  the  rest ;  and  that,  under  that  state  of 
things,  so  far  from  its  being  true  that  the  States  where  slavery  exists 
have  the  exclusive  management  of  the  subject,  not  only  the  President 
of  the  United  States  but  the  commander  of  the  army  has  power  to 
order  the  universal  emancipation  of  the  slaves.  I  have  given  here  more 
in  detail  a  principle  which  I  have  asserted  on  this  floor  before  now, 
and  of  wliich  I  have  no  more  doubt,  than  that  you.  Sir,  occupy  that 
Chair.  I  give  it  in  its  development,  in  order  that  any  gentleman  from 
any  part  of  the  Union  may,  if  he  tliinks  proper,  deny  the  truth  of  the 
position,  and  may  maintain  his  denial ;  not  by  indignation,  not  by  pas- 
sion and  fury,  but  by  sound  and  sober  reasoning  from  the  laws  of  na- 
tions and  the  laws  of  war.  And  if  my  position  can  be  answered  and 
refuted,  I  shall  receive  the  refutation  with  pleasure ;  I  shall  be  glad 
to  listen  to  reason,  aside,  as  I  say,  from  indignation  and  passion.  And 
if,  by  the  force  of  reasoning,  my  understanding  can  be  convinced,  I 
here  pledge  myself  to  recant  what  I  have  asserted. 

"  Let  my  position  be  answered  ;  let  me  be  told,  let  my  constituents 
be  told,  the  people  of  my  State  be  told,  —  a  State  whose  soil  tolerates 
not  the  foot  of  a  slave,  —  that  they  are  bound  by  the  Constitution  to  a 
long  and  toilsome  march  under  burning  summer  suns  and  a  deadly 


58 

Southern  clime  for  the  suppression  of  a  servile  war  ;  that  they  are 
bound  to  leave  their  bodies  to  rot  upon  the  sands  of  Cai'olina,  to  leave 
their  wives  and  their  children  orphans ;  that  those  who  cannot  march 
are  bound  to  pour  out  their  treasures  while  their  sons  or  brothers  are 
pouring  out  their  blood  to  suppress  a  servile,  combined  with  a  civil  or 
a  foreign  war,  and  yet  that  there  exists  no  power  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  slave  State  where  such  war  is  raging  to  emancipate  the  slaves.  I 
say,  let  this  be  proved  —  I  am  open  to  conviction  ;  but  till  that  convic- 
tion comes  I  put  it  forth  not  as  a  dictate  of  feeling,  but  as  a  settled 
maxim  of  the  laws  of  nations,  that  in  such  a  case  the  military  super- 
sedes the  civil  power." 

The  only  comment  on  this  utterance  made  by  Mr.  Adams  in  his 
diary  was  the  following  :  —  "  My  speech  of  tliis  day  stung  the  slave- 
ocracy  to  madness." 

Here  the  proposition  rested  until  1861,  when  the  course  of  events 
brought  into  forcible  application  the  principles  abstractly  enunciated 
twenty  years  before  by  Mr.  Adams. 

C. 

Owing  to  the  hold  which  the  Hebrew  theology  has  obtained  on  all 
modern  thought,  the  standards  of  judgment  usually  a])plied  to  histori- 
cal characters  have  not  been  applied  to  Moses.  He  has  been  treated 
as  exceptional.  Meanwhile,  judged  by  those  standards,  it  may  not 
unfairly  be  questioned  whether  Moses  was  not  the  most  many-sided 
liuinan  being  of  whom  any  record  exists,  and  the  one  whose  influence 
on  the  history  of  the  race  has  been  most  far-reaching.  He  constitutes 
almost  a  class  by  himself,  in  that  he  seems  to  have  been  equally  great 
as  a  philosoplier,  a  law-giver,  a  theologist,  a  poet,  a  soldier,  an  executive 
magistrate  and  an  historian.  Conqiare  him,  for  instance,  with  Julius 
Caesar,  also  a  niany-Kided  man,  wliose  influence  over  human  events  is 
j)erceptible  even  to  the  present  time.  A  consummate  military  com- 
mander and  political  organizer,  Ciesar  wrote  his  Commentaries.  As 
a  strategist  lie  may  have  been  su])erior  to  Moses  ;  and  yet  it  is  very 
(|iU'stionabI('  wlictbcr  he  ever  executed  a  more  brilliant  or  successful 
movement  than  the  march  out  of  Egyj^t  or  the  j)assage  of  the  Red 
Sea.  The  campaigns  ()f  the  Israelites  seem  to  have  been  uniformly 
botli  ]ilanncd  aixl  carried  out  in  a  very  masterly  way.  On  the  other 
liand,  as  a  literary  ])ro(hict  tlie  I)e  Hello  (lallico  is  in  no  way  conq)ar- 
able  to  ExoduH.  As  a  ])hiloso])her,  the  authority  of  l»im  who  wrote 
the  book  of  Genesis  was  undisjHited  until  well  into  the  present  century, 
and  is  even  now  inqilicitly  acre]»ted  by  the  great  mass  of  those  call- 
ing theniHclves  Christiaiis.  The  l)in(ling  character  i»f  the  decalogue  is 
still  recognized,  and  it  lies  at  the  basis  of  modern  legislation.     As  a 


59 

poet,  Homer  distinctly  pales  before  the  Israelite  ;  while  both  Dante 
and  Milton  drew  from  him  their  inspiration.  There  is  no  epic  which 
in  sublimity  of  movement  as  weU  as  human  interest  compares  with  the 
books  of  Moses.  As  a  chief  magistrate,  the  Hebrew  moulded,  or  at 
least  left  his  imprint,  on  a  race  which  has  proved  the  most  marked 
and  persistent  in  type  the  earth  has  yet  produced.  Jesus  Christ  was 
of  it.  Finally,  as  an  historian,  while  the  learning  and  judgment  of 
Moses  would  not  stand  the  test  of  modern  criticism,  his  narrative  was 
accepted  as  incontrovertible  until  within  the  memory  of  those  now  Uv- 
ing,  and  has  passed  into  common  speech. 

What  other  man  in  all  recorded  liistory  presents  such  a  singular  and 
varied  record  ? 

D. 

In  the  address  delivered  at  the  opening  of  the  Fenway  Building  of 
the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  in  April,  1899,  occurred  the 
following  :  — 

"  It  would  be  very  interesting  to  know  how  many  young  persons  now 
read  Gibbon  through  as  he  was  read  by  our  fathers,  or  even  by  ourselves 
who  grew  up  in  'the  fifties.'  Accurate  information  on  such  a  point  is  not 
attainable  ;  but  in  the  ease  of  one  public  library  in  a  considerable  Massa- 
chusetts city  I  have  been  led  to  conclude  as  the  result  of  examination  and 
somewhat  careful  inquiry,  that  the  copy  of  the  '  Decline  and  Fall '  on  its 
shelves  has,  in  over  thirty  years,  not  once  been  consecutively  read  through 
by  a  single  individual.  That  it  is  bought  as  one  of  those  '  books  no  gentle- 
man's library  should  be  without,'  I  know,  not  only  from  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  many  such,  but  because  new  editions  from  time  to  time  appear, 
and  the  booksellers  always  have  it  '  in  stock  ; '  that  it  is  dipped  into  here 
and  there,  and  more  or  less,  I  do  not  doubt  ;  but  that  it  is  now  largely  or 
systematically  read  by  young  people  of  the  coming  generation,  I  greatly 
question." 

This  passage  was  at  the  time  remarked  upon,  and  subsequently  led 
to  a  considerable  correspondence.  In  the  course  of  that  correspond- 
ence, as  occasion  offered,  I  endeavored  fui'ther  to  inform  myself, 
tlirough  publishers,  booksellers,  librarians,  instructors  and  students. 
To  reach  any  really  valuable  results  such  an  inquiry  would,  of  course, 
have  to  cover  a  broad  field  and  be  systematically  conducted.  This 
was  out  of  my  power.  None  the  less  the  questions  involved  are  of 
moment,  and  a  thorough  investigation  by  a  competent  and  unpreju- 
diced person,  with  abundance  of  time  at  his  disposal,  could  hardly 
fail  to  be  suggestive,  and,  not  improbably,  might  reveal  some  quite 
unexpected  conditions,  educational  as  well  as  popular.  Wliile  the  cor- 
respondence carried  on  by  me  was  desultory,  as  well  as  limited,  some 
of  the  points  developed  by  it  are  more  or  less  noteworthy  and  may 


60 

incite  others  to  a  better  arranged  inquiry.  I,  therefore,  give  space  to 
them. 

From  publishing  firms  and  booksellers  not  much  of  value  could  be 
obtained.  The  former  are,  not  unnaturally,  more  or  less  reticent  on 
matters  connected  with  their  business  ;  while  the  booksellers  not  only 
rvm  into  special  lines,  but  their  trade  is  subject  to  local  conditions. 
With  both,  also,  the  question  of  copyright  has  to  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration. So  far  as  conclusions  could  be  drawn  from  information 
derived  from  these  sources,  they  would  seem  generally  to  be  that  the 
demand  for  books  of  an  liistorical  character  has  increased  largely  and 
is  still  increasing,  and  that  for  both  the  more  expensive  and  the  cheaper 
editions  ;  but  there  is  nothing  indicative  of  a  special  or  disproportion- 
ate increase  in  the  case  of  history  as  compared  with  other  branches  of 
literature.  Among  what  may  be  called  the  standard  English  and 
American  writers,  the  demand  is  for  the  writings  of  Gibbon,  Macau- 
lay,  Carlyle  and  Green  ;  and  for  those  of  Prescott,  Motley  and  Fiske. 
In  Boston  it  seems  of  late  to  be  somewhat  in  the  following  propor- 
tions :  Green  150,  Macaulay  100,  Carlyle  and  Gibbon  75,  Prescott 
50,  Motley  30.  Text-books  and  what  may  be  called  the  ephemeral 
historical  ^\Titings  are  not  taken  into  consideration.  Taking  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking ])ublic  in  all  parts  of  the  world  as  a  whole,  ]\Iacaulay 
and  Carlyle  would  seem  to  be  the  two  standard  historical  writers  in- 
comparably most  in  vogue.  Even  in  America  there  have  been  numer- 
ous editions  of  the  works  of  both  of  these  writers  to  single  editions  of 
American  works  of  a  similar  diaracter.  For  Gibbon  alone  of  the 
older  writers  does  there  seem  to  be  any  active  demand.  One  feature 
in  the  demand  is  noticeable.  The  readers  of  liistory  seem  largely  to 
buy  and  own  the  copies  they  use.  The  public  libraries  will  alone  ab- 
sorb full  editions  of  any  new  work  ;  but,  of  the  standard  writers,  they 
as  a  rule  buy  the  l)etter  and  more  expensive  impressions,  while  the  great 
mass  of  cheaj)  reprints  and  second-hand  copies  is  absorbed  by  a  vast 
reading  ])u1»lic,  wliich  formerly  did  not  exist  at  all  and  of  which  little 
is  now  known.      Its  demand  is,  liowever,  on  the  lines  indicated. 

Tlie  fact  just  referred  to,  that  what  may  be  termed  the  sustained 
readers  of  history,  or  those  equal  to  continuous  liistorical  reading, 
j)refer  to  own  their  own  copies  of  the  books  they  read,  and  to  a  large 
extent  contrive  to  do  so  either  through  tlie  bargain-stand  or  the  cheap 
rejM'int,  has  a  very  close  bearing  on  the  inferences  to  he  drawn  from 
the  statistics  and  ex])erience  of  the  public  libraries.  These  agencies 
are  all  modern,  and  their  influence  has  not  yet  had  time  in  which  fully 
to  asHf^rt  itnelf.  A  development  of  the  last  half  century,  they  are  yet 
in  the  fornuitive,  or  plastic,  state.  As  regards  them  and  their  influ- 
ence on  the  reading  of  hist(jrical  works,  further  iixjuiry  and  corre- 
spondence have  led  to  a  revisal  of  first  impressions.     As  respects  his- 


61 

torical  reading  and  study  now  going  on,  I  gravely  doubt  whether  any 
safe  inferences  can  be  drawn  from  this  source.  As  a  rule  about  five 
(5)  per  cent,  of  the  books  called  for  at  the  desks  of  our  public  libra- 
ries are  classified  as  liistorical ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  further  inves- 
tigation leads  me  to  infer  that  those  who  resort  to  the  public  libraries 
for  books  of  this  sort  do  so  as  a  rule  either  educationally,  that  is,  in 
connection  with  school  studies,  or  they  are  ephemeral  readers.  Tliis 
appears  clearly  on  examination  in  a  public  library  of  almost  any  his- 
torical work  in  several  volumes.  The  first  wiU  almost  invariably  bear 
marks  of  heavy  handling,  and  will  probably  have  been  sent  to  the 
binder ;  the  succeeding  volumes  wiU  show  fewer  and  fewer  signs  of 
use ;  while  the  closing  volumes,  except  the  index  volume,  will  be  quite 
fresh.  People  who  read  such  works  thi'ough  with  profit  or  pleasure 
probably  own  them.  Observation  from  the  Pubhc  Library  point  of 
view  is,  therefore,  on  this  subject,  apt  to  be  deceptive. 

For  instance,  an  official  of  one  of  the  largest  and  most  extensively 
used  public  libraries  in  the  country  writes  me,  speaking  of  Gibbon, 
"  It  is  my  opinion  that  a  fair  percentage  of  those  who  undertake  Gib- 
bon put  the  job  through.  You  can  draw  about  any  inference  you 
please  on  the  relative  place  Gibbon  now  holds."  Another,  almost 
equally  well  jilaced  from  the  same  point  of  observation,  has  written  to 
me,  "  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  fact  [you  observe]  as  to  the  con- 
dition of  the  several  volumes  of  Gibbon  on  the  shelves  of  the  Public 
Library  of  Quincy  could  be  verified  by  observation  in  tlus  library, 
and,  in  all  probability,  in  most  other  public  libraries  in  this  country." 
My  own  inference  now  is  that  the  people  who  read  "  The  Decline 
and  Fall,"  —  and  they  are  many,  —  own  it.  The  copies  in  the  public 
libraries  are  used  for  experimental  purposes,  or  for  topical  reference. 

On  the  general  subject,  I  find  many  suggestive  paragraphs  in  my 
Public  Librarian  correspondence.     The  following  for  instance  :  — 

"  The  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  very  few  people  nowadays  have  the 
time  and  patience  to  read  a  prolix  history  through  by  course,  or  even  to 
wade  through  the  novels  which  were  constructed  with  so  great  elaboration 
of  exciting  incident  for  the  edification  of  our  grandfathers.  It  is  our  ex- 
perience that  Gibbon  and  Hallam  and  Lingard  and  Hume  and  Bancroft  are 
never  read  entire.  It  may  be  said  that  the  attempt  is  seldom  if  ever  made 
to  do  so.  There  is  sometimes  an  effort  to  master  Maeaiday,  or  Carlyle,  or 
Motley,  or  Preseott  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  this  is  too  often  witli  Hagging 
interest.  The  historical  writings  of  Francis  Parkman  and  John  Fiske  are 
in  great  popular  demand.  Tliese  are  so  broken  up  into  separate  topics  that 
the  task  set  before  the  reader  does  not  appear  formidable,  and  when  he  has 
read  up  on  one  topic  he  is  quite  likely  to  be  hired  by  the  interesting  narrative 
and  the  fascinating  style  into  a  continuance  through  other  works  of  the  same 
author.  Captain  Mahan's  books  are  much  read,  as  are  also  Green's  shorter 
history  and  McCarthy's  '  History  of  our  own  Times,'  and  the  recent  his- 
tories of  Schouler  and  Rhodes. 


62 

"  Though  there  is  less  reading  by  course  of  voluminous  histories  than  for- 
merly, the  study  of  history  was  never  more  popular.  The  tendency  of  the 
times  is  toward  condensation.  We  want  our  facts  in  a  nutshell ;  we  cannot 
spend  time  over  unimportant  details  ;  the  historian  is  expected  to  separate 
the  chaff  from  the  grain.  So  we  have  numerous  condensed  histories  and 
biographies,  some  of  which  are  excellent,  though  some  show  too  clearly  the 
characteristic  of  having  been  made-to-order  at  the  expense  of  the  publisher. 
But  the  fact  that  the  publishers  find  them  profitable  is  good  evidence  that 
such  books  are  the  kind  which  many  persons  are  buying. 

"  Much  of  the  historical  reading  with  which  we  come  into  contact  in  this 
library  is  by  topic,  under  the  guidance  of  clubs  and  instructors,  and  therefore 
systematic." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  hope  to  induce  the  average  person  of  moderate 
intelligence  to  do  more  than  read  the  newspapers  and  a  few  monthly  maga- 
zines in  these  days.  History  does  not  come  to  him  any  longer  througli  the 
volume  ;  it  comes  to  him  through  the  morning  paper,  as  it  never  did  before. 
Historians  are  still  a  little  too  much  inclined  to  write  histories  in  the  old 
style  ;  even  John  Fiske  does,  it  would  seem.  Whereas  entirely  new  condi- 
tions of  life  and  knowledge  would  seem  to  call  for  a  new  kind  of  history, 
\(rhat  kind  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"I  doubt  if  ten  undergraduates  at  Yale  have  read  Gibbon  during  the  past 
five  years  ;  many,  however,  have  read  Carlyle's  '  Frederick,'  and  more  his 
•  French  Revolution.' " 

"  I  find  myself  more  and  more  astonished  at  the  narrowing  range  of  read- 
ing. It  may  be  that  I  don't  see  the  whole  thing  or  tliat  I  form  wrong  esti- 
mates, but  I  am  in  accord  with  the  more  observing  of  my  associates  when  I 
tell  you  that  the  reading  habits  of  the  '  average  '  reader  are  not  desultory  — 
I  wish  they  were  —  but  sharply  defined  and  within  most  contracted  limits. 
Let  me  specify  in  the  matter  of  United  States  History.  When  I  was  a 
youngster  we  used  to  have  large  plans  for  reading  Bancroft,  or  Ilildretli, 
or  the  biographies  of  famous  Americans.  To-day  it  is  noticeable  that  the 
generation  recently  graduated  from  the  Public  Schools  seems  to  liave  im- 
bibed no  general  taste  for  reading  —  and  does  not  seek  to  expand  its  small 
acquirements  beyond  a  given  jjoint.  For  several  years,  off  and  on,  1  have 
been  the  civil  service  examiner  for  this  Library,  and  I  can  assert  that  tlie 
only  knowledge  of  American  History,  or  worse,  of  American  historical 
writings,  is  confined  to  the  work  of  one  Montgomery,  of  whom,  I  dare  say, 
you  never  heard.  Very  rarely  a  young  reader  knows  of  Fiske,  more  rarely 
of  Hig^inson  —  once  in  a  while  of  Harnes,  a  new  name  to  you,  I  fancy.  But 
of  tlie  iMijJortant  names,  simply  nothing.  Wliat  is  true  in  these  examina- 
tion ])a])erH,  is  triu;  also  of  the  ])0(»plo  who  come  to  read.  Tliey  largely 
confiiu'  tlicmscdvf'H  to  this  sort  of  liistorical  reading. 

"  In  the  past  few  years  tlierc  lias  also  been  a  gradual  restriction  of  the 
limits  of  literary  tjistes.  Children,  in  our  sdiools,  and  I  suppo.se  the  ten- 
<lency  comes  from  the  West,  are  fed  on  very  limited  ])ap.  Longfellow, 
Whittier,  and  a  few  others  are  the  only  names  known  to  them  —  and  there 
seenis  to  be  no  encouragement  of  a  general  taste.     So  f;ir  a,s  we  then  are 


63 

able  to  discern,  everything  is  '  patriotic  '  —  patriotic  speeches,  poems,  his- 
tory, one  might  hazard  the  statement  that  in  the  '  nature  studies '  so  popular 
now,  —  what  we  used  to  call  '  natural  history  '  —  the  bugs,  beetles,  butter- 
flies and  flowers  must  be  patriotic  too.  This  all  may  seem  exaggerated 
and  fanciful,  but  I  assure  you  that  it  is  not  to  us.  We  trace  it  to  a  sort  of 
spurious  conception  of  specialization  among  teachers  and  especially  among 
school  committees.  Whatever  the  cause,  I  submit  to  you  that  it  is  a  de- 
pressing fact  that  children  should  grow  up  with  a  particular  knowledge  of 
Longfellow  and  Mr.  Montgomery's  history,  and  not  the  least  acquaintance 
with  the  general  works  of  literature  and  history,  at  least  of  America  and 
England.  This  is  one  reason  why  Gibbon  is  not  read  more  —  nobody  hears 
about  him  to-day  —  or  of  Grote,  or  Mommsen,  —  though  Macaulay  still  has 
his  readers." 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that,  so  far  as  the  general  public  is  concerned, 
—  that  largest  portion  of  thebody  politic  which  is  finally  influenced  by 
its  secretions,  —  no  conclusions  are  reliable  the  inductions  to  which  do 
not  include  the  Sunday  newspaper  and  the  periodical.  These  circu- 
late by  the  miUion,  and  are  most  carefully  shaped  to  meet  the  demand 
of  the  day.  They  all  give  much  space  to  historical  topics,  deahng 
with  them  in  popular  form.  Formerly,  neither  the  medium  nor  the 
method  existed.  Their  function  and  influence  have  never  been  ade- 
quately investigated.  As  a  literature,  besides  creating  a  new  field  of 
enormous  size,  the  periodical  and  the  Sunday  paper  have,  as  leisure 
reading,  largely  superseded  the  Bible,  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Robinson 
Crusoe  and  all  literatm-e  of  that  class. 

Turning  now  to  the  educational  institutions,  —  especially  those  of 
the  more  advanced  grade,  —  and  the  student  class,  it  would,  I  think, 
be  found  that  a  great  change  has  taken  place  in  recent  years.  Not 
only  have  new  methods  been  introduced,  but  a  branch  of  education 
has  been  called  into  being.  Formerly,  —  that  is  prior  to  tliirty  years 
ago,  —  history  was  taught  in  our  colleges  merely  as  a  subject  concern- 
ing the  authors  and  leading  facts  of  wliich  a  so-called  educated  man 
should  have  some  knowledge ;  it  is  now  taught  as,  at  once,  a  science 
and  a  philosophy.  Approached  in  this  way  by  a  newly  created  race 
of  instructors,  it  naturally  and  almost  necessarily  runs  into  vagaries,  — 
what  may  best  be  described  as  educational  "  fads."  The  original  re- 
search, topical,  period  and  realistic  methods  seem  to  be  those  now  most 
in  vogue.  As  intimated  in  the  text,  the  artistic  side  is  in  disrepute, 
while  little  or  no  attention  is  paid  to  history  as  literature.  It  has  the 
aspect  of  a  revival  on  a  more  scientific  basis  of  Carlyle's  Dr.  Dryasdust 
dispensation,  and  can  hardly  be  considered  inspiring.  The  following 
extracts  from  letters  I  have  received  throw  light  on  this  subject :  — 

"  I  have  nowadays  xmder  my  instruction  only  such  seniors  and  graduates 
of  and as  elect  my   courses,  perhaps  sixty  or   seventy  individ- 


64 

uals  each  year.  Among  these  I  should  suspect  that  perhaps  one  in  ten 
might  have  read  Carlyle's  *  Revolution.'  I  should  be  astonished  to  find 
that  one  in  twenty  had  read  even  half  of  Macaulay  or  Gibbon,  or  one  in  fifty 
Bancroft.  As  for  '  Frederick  the  Great,'  that  would  be  as  rarely  perused 
as  Augustine's  '  City  of  God.'  One  in  five  might  know  something  of  Park- 
man,  Fiske  and  Mahan,  on  account  of  their  general  popularity,  however, 
rather  than  any  stimulus  due  to  college  work.  Green's  book  enjoys  a 
greater  popularity,  I  should  presume,  than  any  of  the  others. 

"  I  will  venture  to  add  the  following  reflections  in  extenuation  of  what 
you  appear  to  deem  an  indication  of  a  reluctance  on  the  part  of  the  present 
generation  to  apply  themselves  patiently  to  prolonged  and  serious  tasks.  It 
is  undoubtedly  true  that  the  methods  of  instruction  in  our  more  conspicuous 
institutions  of  learning  militate  against  '  the  habit  of  steady,  or  "  course  "  his- 
torical reading,'  but  I  should  be  verj^  loath  to  add,  as  you  do,  '  and  sustained 
thought,'  among  our  students.  There  is  indeed  little  encouragement  to  read 
long  works  through,  and  certainly  there  is  little  tendency  to  extol  any  writer 
as  a  prophet.  But  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  causes  of  the  discredit  into 
which  the  older  method  has  fallen  may  indicate  after  all  increasing  insight 
and  disci'imination.  These  causes  appear  to  me  to  be,  first,  a  growing  ten- 
dency to  a  broader  and  more  sympathetic  method  of  dealing  witli  the  past. 
We  are  no  longer  chiefly  interested  in  political  events,  nor  are  the  best  writ- 
ers of  to-day  guilty  of  the  Tendenz  so  apparent  in  the  partisan  treatments 
of  Gibbon,  Hume,  Prescott,  Macaulay  and  Motley. 

"  The  broader  conception  of  history  leads,  secondly,  to  a  topical  treatment 
of  the  subject  ;  students  turn  to  special  rather  than  general  works  of  refer- 
ence. An  advanced  student  is  taught  to  turn  often  to  a  monograph  or  the 
most  recent  edition  of  a  technical  encyclopaedia  rather  than  to  so-called 
'standard  '  general  treatments." 

"  Personally,  I  feel  that  we  shall  be  able  sometime  to  combine  the  advan- 
tages both  of  form  and  readableness  with  the  requirements  of  scientific  truth 
and  relevancy." 

"  I  should  say  that  the  studious  habit  of  the  men  runs  rather  to  topical 
than  to  course  reading  ;  and  tliat,  outside  tlic  range  of  tlicir  fixed  studies, 
they  take  their  pleasure  from  ]><)otry  and  fiction  rather  tlian  from  the  histo- 
rians. I  should  say  that  such  gonenil  historicil  reading  as  I  remember  to 
have  been  the  (leliglit  of  my  own  undergraduate  (lS75-0)days  is  now  less 
common  tli:in  it  used  to  be. 

"  TIic  tendency  is  decidedly  towards  '  other  and  more  recent  methods.' 
Macaulay  and  Carlyle  are  too  much  decried  in  the  classroom.  Even  (Jreen 
is  looked  upon  luskancc  as  a  bit  too  *  literary,'  I  suspect  ;  and  tlie  men  who 
would  be  scholar.s  are  sternly  bidden  to  the  n)ethods  of  colorless  investi- 
gators. L(!t  us  pray  that  we  sliall  some  day  come  to  a  sane  bal.tnce  in  (lieso 
matters,  and  not  start  young  historians  copying  false  staiulards  of  either 
extreme." 

"lam  nearly  certain  that  the  average  undergraduate  wlio  lias  anything 
to  do  with  lii.storical  clectives  in  the  more  important  colleges  now  reads  in  a 
yftir  more  history  tlian  did  llie  average  undergraduate  of  a  gi-neration  ago. 


65 

But  the  methods  of  instruction  now  employed  make  it  likely  that  he  reads 
chapters  or  portions  of  books,  reads  with  a  view  to  getting  various  lights 
upon  particular  transactions  or  episodes  of  history,  rather  than  to  read  con- 
secutively through  works  comprising  several  volumes  each. 

"  I  am  sure  that  the  average  undergraduate  has  not  less  patience  or  grit 
than  the  average  undergraduate  of  my  time.  I  think  he  works  more  ;  but 
he  works  in  a  different  manner.  I  have  taken  counsel  chiefly,  in  respect  to 
your  questions,  of  our  assistant  librarian,  who  remembers  pretty  well  what 
books  are  taken  out  from  the  library.  He  knows  no  recent  instance  of  a 
student  having  read  through  Gibbon's  '  Decline  and  Fall.'  Carlyle's  '  Fred- 
erick the  Great '  has  recently  been  attempted  by  one  or  two,  but  not  com- 
pleted. Carlyle's  'French  Revolution  '  has  been  a  good  deal  read.  Of  a 
consecutive  reading  of  Bancroft  he  remembers  no  instance.  Some  have 
read  through  Motley's  '  Dutch  Republic'  Probably  no  one  has  also  gone 
through  his  '  History  of  the  United  Netherlands.'  John  Fiske's  writings 
are  much  in  demand. 

"  I  believe  you  would  find  very  few  college  libraries  in  which  the  last 
volume  of  Gibbon  showed  signs  of  having  been  much  used  at  any  period, 
though  Vol.  I.  is  often  worn  out. 

"  It  is  not  the  first  time  that  the  question  has  arisen  in  my  mind  whether 
our  students  ought  not  to-day  to  be  given  the  opportunity  to  do  more  read- 
ing that  is  not  positively  required.  But  I  presume  that  I  shall  answer  the 
question,  as  I  have  always  answered  it  before,  by  concluding  that  it  is  a 
better  plan  to  make  sure  that  all  the  students  do  enough  work  and,  toward 
that  end,  to  fill  up  the  time  of  all,  even  of  those  who,  without  constraint, 
would  read  enough." 

"  The  habit  of  reading  practised  by  university  students  in  history  to-day 
is  that  of  topical  comparison  —  or  at  least  (if  the  student  or  the  references 
be  at  fault)  topical  cumulation.  Thus  in  the  last  decade  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  pamphlets  of  references  on  American  history  have  been  published, 
doing  on  a  small  scale  what  the  '  Guide  '  of  Professors  Channing  and  Hart 
does  on  a  larger  one.  Judging  from  these  guides,  and  my  own  experience 
and  observation,  I  should  say  that  this  method  of  topical  analysis  and  refer- 
ences is  the  method  used  at  present  not  only  in  universities  but  in  colleges 
and  larger  high  schools.  A  generation  ago,  doubtless,  a  student  was  thrown 
upon  the  text-book,  recitation  system  ;  but  if  he  were  ambitious,  then  he 
would  obtain  his  comparative  view  of  history  by  reading  —  independent  or 
required  —  in  the  classic  works.  To-day  the  comparative  study  is  made 
easy,  and  is  more  or  less  required  ;  but  it  is  applied  peaeemeal,  not  broadly: 
to  individual  topics,  narrow  points.  The  student  reads  his  authors  '  in  little  * 
on  each  phase  of  a  movement.  In  this  way  he  rounds  out  each  whole  while 
details  are  fresh  in  mind  —  however  he  may  lose  in  other  respects.  Now 
the  fact  is,  that  the  topical  reading  is  so  exacting  that  a  student  has  little 
time  for  the  more  generous  reading  of  his  authors.  In  other  words,  so  far 
as  his  university  courses  are  concerned,  the  chapter  and  page  system  is  very 
largely  forced  upon  a  student.  In  view  of  such  tendencies  —  which  I  have 
reason  to  believe  are  general  and  dominant  —  it  would  seem  unlikely  that 
the  consecutive  reading  through  of  classics  will  again  become  more  common. 
It  could  scarcely  become  less  common." 


njsJTVKRSTTY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


66 

"  The  modern  method  of  setting  men  to  work  to  answer  problems  or  draw 
conclusions  from  various  writers  in  a  report  or  essay  leads  men  to  use  a  book 
for  a  purpose,  and  such  part  of  it,  therefore,  as  they  want,  rather  than  to  sit 
down  and  read  consecutively  a  single  author  until  they  have  finished  him. 
In  addition,  doubtless,  the  hurry,  the  scattered  interests  in  things  athletic 
and  public,  in  college  contests  and  exhibitions,  in  social  '  functions,'  the  gen- 
eral lack  of  repose  and  of  steady  application  also  contribute  to  explain  the 
situation.  These  latter  excesses  are  lamentable  ;  but  the  modern  method 
of  historical  study  is  in  my  opinion  the  right  one,  even  were  it  not  the  oulj' 
feasible  one  under  modern  conditions." 

"  My  experience  and  observation  goes  to  show  that  steady  or  course  his- 
torical reading  among  the  undergraduates  of  the  present  day  is  avoided  as 
far  as  possible.  No  more  reading  is  done  than  is  absolutely  essential  to 
satisfy  the  requirements  of  the  instructor  in  the  written  weekly  papers,  and 
in  the  mid-year  and  final  examinations.  Furthermore,  the  amount  of  re- 
quired reading  which  the  students  actually  do  is  regulated  by  their  ambi- 
tions to  obtain  high,  medium,  or  low  grades  in  their  history  courses.  Of 
course  there  are  exceptions  in  the  students  who  do  far  more  than  the  re- 
quired reading  simply  because  they  are  greatly  interested  in  the  subject-mat- 
ter itself,  but,  in  my  opinion,  the  average  student  of  to-day  does  no  more 
than  he  really  has  to." 

"  I  should  say  students  of  to-day  read  widely  in  history,  but  not  with  very 
great  steadiness  :  the  greatest  bursts  are  nearest  the  examination  periods." 

Finally  a  recently  graduated  Harvard  student,  and  an  undergrad- 
uate, to  whom  in  my  curiosity  on  the  subject  I  was  led  to  apj)ly  for  in- 
formation as  to  the  reading  tendencies  among  the  younger  generation 
so  far  as  history  from  a  literary  point  of  view  was  concerned,  kindly 
rejdied  to  my  queries  as  follows  :  — 

"  In  general  my  answer  to  your  (piestions  is  decidedly  that  there  is  very 
little  reading  done  by  imdergraduates  in  the  older  .and  more  solid  authors. 
Tlie  general  tendency  seems  to  be  towards  newer  and  abridged  works  like 
M.  Uuruy's  '  Middle  Ages  and  INIodern  Times.'  What  little  reading  is 
done  in  books  like  (Jibbon,  Carlyle,  Ilallam,  etc.,  is  done  in  little  'dabs': 
there  is  no  thouglit  of  a  consecutive  study  of  them.  Esi)ci'ially  is  this  true 
in  the  case  of  CJibbou.  I  had  almost  said  tliat  the  '  Decline  and  Fall  '  is  as 
little  known  here  now,  as  in  tlio  days  wlion  its  use  was  forbidden  as  '  unor- 
thodox.' It  was  one  of  the  books  out  of  which  tlie  froshmen  in  History  were 
advised  to  read  a  hundred  pages,  and  though  I  told  all  my  boys  that  they 
ought  at  least  to  look  into  it  and  know  who  (Jibbon  was,  the  general  ten- 
dency was  to  fight  shy  of  so  wciglity  a  work,  and  rather  to  read  in  books 
like  Professor  JOincrton's  '  Introduction  to  the  IMiddle  Ages.'  The  ordi- 
nary unilergraduate  is  too  niuc.li  scared  by  Macaulay's  !illusivcn('ss  to  get 
very  far  witli  him.  I  Ihitik  I  am  <'orrect  in  stating  Miat  1  attended  a  (!ourse 
in  which  ten  or  fifteen  lectun-s  were  devoted  to  t\u)  Frendi  Revolution,  and 
Carlyle  was  not  mentioned.  Sorel  and  Von  Siel)el  and  Rose  seem  to  have 
displaced  him.     (Jreen  is  read  a  iittlf!  more,  1  think. 

"  Of  course  it  is  the  exception  rather  than  the  rule  for  tlie  ordinary  under- 
graduate to  read  solid  books  which  are  not  recommended  in  his  courses.     I 


67 

don't  think  there  is  any  great  difference  between  the  present  undergraduate 
methods  and  those  of  the  undergraduates  of  my  day." 

"  I  think  that  most  undergraduates  do  very  little  steady  reading  in  his- 
tory, the  general  tendency  being  to  keep  very  near  the  minimum  amount  of 
prescribed  reading  in  courses.  Many  men  make  sincere  resolves  to  read 
more,  and  begin  to  read  long  works,  but  those  who  read  from  beginning  to 
end  are  few  indeed.  A  great  deal  of  historical  information  is  gained  indi- 
rectly through  indiscriminate  magazine  reading,  especially  in  regard  to  cur- 
rent events.  I  have  found  that  most  of  my  acquaintances  are  usually  famil- 
iar with  So-and-So's  article  in  this  or  that  magazine,  from  month  to  mouth. 

"  I  have  myself  read  the  whole  of  Gibbon  several  times  from  beginning 
to  end,  but  I  have  never  known  of  another  undergraduate  who  had  ever 
read  so  much  as  one  volume  tlirough.  Of  eleven  men  to  whom  I  addressed 
the  question  this  morning  none  had  read  Gibbon  through,  three  had  never 
read  a  page  of  his  writings,  and  eight  had  read  '  a  few  chapters,'  these  chap- 
ters having  been  required  in  a  freshman  course  (History  1).  None  had 
ever  read  him  voluntarily. 

"  I  like  the  style  of  Macaulay  best,  but  it  is  more  because  of  his  English 
than  because  of  his  historical  methods.  Nine  of  the  eleven  men  questioned 
also  favored  Macaulaj',  and  for  the  same  reason,  I  fancy.  Most  undergrad- 
uates learn  to  admire  him  in  English  A,  and  in  answering  your  question  the 
men  did  not  seem  to  discriminate  between  his  English  style  and  his  historic 
cal  methods.  None  seemed  to  have  any  opinion  as  to  the  merits  of  the 
methods  of  the  different  writers,  not  ever  having  given  any  thought  to  the 
question. 

"  I  have  myself  read  Hume,  Gibbon,  Macaulay,  Ridpath,  Fiske,  Bancroft, 
Prescott,  Irving,  much  biography  and  many  Memoirs,  especially  of  American 
statesmen  and  of  the  Napoleonic  era,  because  I  like  them  ;  but  I  think  very 
few  men  do  this.  Of  the  men  questioned,  eight  had  read  Bryce's  '  American 
Commonwealth,'  which  is  required  in  one  of  Professor  Mac  Vane's  Govern- 
ment courses  here.  Two  had  read  a  part  of  McMaster's  '  United  States,' 
in  connection  with  Professor  Hart's  History  13,  and  one  man,  inspired  by 
work  done  in  Professor  MacVane's  History  12,  had  read  May's  '  Consti- 
tutional History  of  England  '  from  beginning  to  end.  Most  men  here  have 
read  Bryce. 

"  In  the  sense  implied  in  your  question,  no,  or  very  few,  undergraduates 
read  the  long  works  nowadays.  INIost  of  the  men  I  questioned  looked  at 
me  rather  quizzically  when  I  asked  them  this  question,  as  much  as  to  say, 
*  What  do  you  take  us  for  ?  '  " 

The  infei'ence  from  all  of  which  is  obvious.  In  our  institutions  of 
advanced  education,  literary  form  as  an  element  in  good  historical 
work,  when  not  actually  discountenanced,  is  now  whoUy  ignored. 
The  method  in  vogue  is  suggestive  of  that  pursued  by  the  critic  of  the 
Eatanswill  Gazette,  in  his  admired  review  of  the  work  on  Cliinese 
metaphysics.  The  student  is  expected  to  improve  himself  in  litera- 
ture in  the  English  Department,  and  in  history  and  the  historical 
methods  in  the  Historical  Department ;  and,  subsequently,  combine 
his  information. 


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